The wearied limbs seemed to relax. To sleep as she did she must have
been watching long.

When she opened her eyes again the afternoon had gone and the shadows of
evening were falling. It was still bright and warm, but she shivered
like one seized with mortal cold.

She rose and made her way to the quiet little village. It was almost out
of the world, so completely was it hidden by the trees and hills. She
reached the quiet little street at last. She looked at the windows of
the houses, but the notice she wanted to see was not in any of them. At
the end of the street she came to a narrow lane that led to the woods;
half-way down the lane was a small cottage half buried in elder trees.

In the window hung a small placard--"Rooms to let." She knocked at the
door, which was opened by a kindly-looking elderly woman.

"You have rooms to let?" said the faint, low voice. "I want two."

Then followed a few words as to terms, etc., and the transaction was
concluded.

"Shall my son fetch your luggage?" asked the landlady, Mrs. Hirste.

"I have no luggage," she replied; then seeing something like a doubtful
expression on the kindly face, she added; "I will pay you a month's
money in advance."

That was quite satisfactory. Mrs. Hirste led the way to a pretty little
parlor, which she showed with no little pride.