To this her reply had been, "I hope it's not so bad as that," and she had
looked provokingly in his eyes. Now she knew beyond peradventure that he
cared for her, and she was almost provoked at herself that when he was in
such danger of losing his sight for ever she had caught his head to her
breast in the passion of the moment. Many a time when he had been
asleep, with gentle fingers she had caressed his hands, his head, his
face; but that did not count, because he did not know. He did, however,
know of that moment when her passionate heart broke over him in
tenderness; and she tried to make him think, by things said since,
that it was only pity for his sufferings which made her do it.

Ingolby thought of all these things, but in a spirit of understanding,
as he went to his tryst with her at sunset on the day when Lebanon and
Manitou were reconciled.

.........................

He met her walking among the trees, very near the place where they had
had their first long talk, months before, when Jethro Fawe was a prisoner
in the Hut in the Woods. Then it was warm, singing Summer; now, beneath
the feet the red and brown leaves rustled, the trees were stretching up
gaunt arms to the Winter, the woods were no longer vocal, and the singing
birds had fled, though here and there a black squirrel, not yet gone to
Winter quarters, was busy and increasing his stores. A hedgehog scuttled
across his path. He smiled as he remembered telling Fleda that once,
when he was a little boy, he had eaten hedgehog, and she had asked him if
he remembered the Gipsy name for hedgehog--hotchewitchi was the word.
Now, as the shapeless creature made for its hole, it was significant of
the history of his life during the past Summer. How long it seemed since