She had opened the door, and was on the point of stepping into the
passage--when she stopped, and started violently. Was it possible, in
that dreadful weather, that she had actually heard the sound of carriage
wheels on the strip of paved road outside the inn?

Yes! others had heard the sound too. The hobbling figure of Mr.
Bishopriggs passed her in the passage, making for the house door.
The hard voice of the landlady rang through the inn, ejaculating
astonishment in broad Scotch. Anne closed the sitting-room door again,
and turned to Arnold--who had risen, in surprise, to his feet.

"Travelers!" she exclaimed. "At this time!"

"And in this weather!" added Arnold.

"_Can_ it be Geoffrey?" she asked--going back to the old vain delusion
that he might yet feel for her, and return.

Arnold shook his head. "Not Geoffrey. Whoever else it may be--not
Geoffrey!"

Mrs. Inchbare suddenly entered the room--with her cap-ribb ons flying,
her eyes staring, and her bones looking harder than ever.

"Eh, mistress!" she said to Anne. "Wha do ye think has driven here to
see ye, from Windygates Hoose, and been owertaken in the storm?"

Anne was speechless. Arnold put the question: "Who is it?"

"Wha is't?" repeated Mrs. Inchbare. "It's joost the bonny young