sat up and held out her hand for the shawl.

"I must go," she said.

The stranger wrapped the shawl very carefully about her.

"Keep it close around your face, Lyndall; it is very damp outside. Shall I
walk with you to the house?"

"No. Lie down and rest; I will come and wake you at three o'clock."

She lifted her face that he might kiss it, and, when he had kissed it once,
she still held it that he might kiss it again. Then he let her out. He
had seated himself at the fireplace, when she reopened the door.

"Have you forgotten anything?"

"No."

She gave one long, lingering look at the old room. When she was gone, and
the door shut, the stranger filled his glass, and sat at the table sipping
it thoughtfully.

The night outside was misty and damp; the faint moonlight, trying to force
its way through the thick air, made darkly visible the outlines of the
buildings. The stones and walls were moist, and now and then a drop,
slowly collecting, fell from the eaves to the ground. Doss, not liking the
change from the cabin's warmth, ran quickly to the kitchen doorstep; but
his mistress walked slowly past him, and took her way up the winding
footpath that ran beside the stone wall of the camps. When she came to the