dark narrow passages, branching right and left through the whole
breadth of the house. It was along one of these that Innocent ran
swiftly on leaving the kitchen, till she reached a closed door,
where pausing, she listened a moment-then, hearing no sound,
opened it and went softly in. The room she entered was filled with
soft shadows of the gradually falling dusk, yet partially lit by a
golden flame of the after-glow which shone through the open
latticed window from the western sky. Close to the waning light
sat the master of the farm, still clad in his smock frock, with
his straw hat on the table beside him and his stick leaning
against the arm of his chair. He was very quiet,--so quiet, that a
late beam of the sun, touching the rough silver white of his hair,
seemed almost obtrusive, as suggesting an interruption to the
moveless peace of his attitude. Innocent stopped short, with a
tremor of nervous fear.

"Dad!" she said, softly.

He turned towards her.

"Ay, lass! What is it?"

She did not answer, but came up and knelt down beside him, taking
one of his brown wrinkled hands in her own and caressing it. The
silence between them was unbroken for quite two or three minutes;
then he said:

"Last load in all safe?"

"Yes, Dad!"