She ran behind him, flung her soft arms round his neck, and pressed a kiss against his cheek just above his whiskers.

"That won't do," he said. "I won't take yer for that--I must have it on my lips."

She gave him a shy peck something like a robin. He caught her suddenly in his arms, squeezed her to his heart, and kissed her over and over again.

"I love thee more than words can say," he cried. "I am mad to get your love in return. Will the day ever come, Het?"

"I don't know, George; I'd like to say so to please you, but I can't tell a lie about a thing like that."

"To be sure, you can't," he said, rising as he spoke. "You'd soon be found out."

"I'd like well to love you," she continued, "for you're good to me; but now I must be off to see Aunt f.a.n.n.y."

Vincent left the kitchen, and Hetty hurried to her room to dress herself trimly. Ten minutes later she was on her way to the village.

The pretty little place already wore a festive air. Bunting had been hung across the streets, flags were flying gayly from many upper windows. The shop-keepers stood at their doors chatting to one another; several of them nodded to Hetty as she pa.s.sed by.

"That you, Hetty Vincent?" called out one woman. "You've heard the news, I guess."

"Yes, about Squire and Madam," said Hetty.

"It has come unexpected," said the woman. "We didn't know until this morning that Squire was to be back to-night. Mr. Griffiths got the letter by the first post, and he's been nearly off his head since; there ain't a man in the village though that hasn't turned to help him with a will, and there are to be bonfires and all the rest. They say Squire and Madam are to live at the Court now. Pity the poor child went off so sudden. He were a main fine little chap; pity he ain't there to return home with his father and mother. You look better, Hetty Vincent--not so peaky like. Pain in the side less?"

"Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't," answered Hetty; "it's much better to-day. I can't stay talking any longer though, Mrs. Martin, for I want to catch Aunt f.a.n.n.y."

"Well, you'll find her at home, but as busy as a bee, the whole place is flocking to the inn to learn the latest news. We're a-going up to the Court presently to welcome 'em home. You and your good man will come, too, eh, Hetty?"

"Yes, for sure," answered Hetty. She continued her walk up the village street.

Mrs. Armitage was cooling herself in the porch of the little inn when she saw her niece approaching.

Hetty hurried her steps, and came panting to her side.

"Aunt f.a.n.n.y, is it true?" she gasped.

"True? Yes, child, it's true," said Mrs. Armitage. "They're coming home.

You come along in and stand in the shelter, Hetty. Seems to me you grow thinner and thinner."

"Oh, aunt, never mind about my looks just now; have you heard anything else? How is he?"

Mrs. Armitage looked behind her and lowered her voice.

"They do say that Squire's as well as ever he wor," she remarked. "Why, he's going to stand for Grandcourt. In one way that's as it should be.

We always had Awdreys in the House--we like to be represented by our own folk."

"Will any one oppose him?" asked Hetty.

"How am I to say? there's nothing known at present. He is to be nominated to-morrow; and that's what's bringing 'em home in double quick time."

"Are you going to the Court to-night, aunt?"

"I thought I'd run round for an hour just to see the carriage roll by, and get a glimpse of Squire and Madam, but I must hurry back, for there'll be a lot to be done here."

"Shall I come and help you and uncle to-night?"

Mrs. Armitage looked her niece all over.

"That's a good thought," she said, "if your man will spare you."

"Oh, I can ask him; I don't think he'll refuse."

"Well, you're spry enough with your fingers and legs when you like. I can't stay out here talking any more, Het."

Hetty came up close to her aunt, and lowered her voice to a whisper.

"Aunt f.a.n.n.y," she said, "one word afore you goes in--Do you think it is safe, him coming back like this?"

"Safe," echoed the elder woman in a tone hoa.r.s.e with a queer mixture of crossness and undefined fear. "Squire's safe enough ef you can keep things to yourself."

"Me?" echoed Hetty. "Do you think I can't hold my tongue?"

"Your tongue may be silent, but there are other ways of letting out a secret. Ef ever there was a tell-tale face yours is one. You're the terror of my life with your aches and your pains, and your startings, as if you saw a shadow behind yer all the time. It's a good thing you don't live in the village. As to Vincent, pore man, he's as blind as a bat; he don't see, or he won't see, what's staring him in the face."

"For G.o.d's sake, Aunt f.a.n.n.y, what do you mean?"

"I mean this, girl. Vincent's wife carries a secret, and she loves one she ought not to love."

"Oh! Aunt f.a.n.n.y, you rend my heart when you talk like that."

"I won't again," said Mrs. Armitage, "but I had to speak out when you came to-day. It was my opportunity, and I had to take it. Queer stories will be spread ef you ain't very careful. You've nought to do with the Squire, Hetty. Go and see him to-night with the rest of 'em, and then be satisfied. You keep quiet at the farm now he's at the Court; don't you be seen a-talking to him or a-follerin' him about."

"I won't, I won't."

"Well, I thought I'd warn yer--now I must get back to my work."

"One minute first, aunt--you know there ain't a soul I can speak to but you, and I'm near mad with the weight of my secret at times."

"You should take it quiet, girl--you fret o'er much. I really must leave you, Hetty; there's your uncle calling out to me."

"One minute--you must answer my question first."

"Well, well--what a girl you are! I'm glad you ain't my niece. Coming, Armitage. Now, Hetty, be quick. My man's temper ain't what it wor and I daren't cross 'im. Now what is it you want to say?"

"It's this Aunt f.a.n.n.y. Ef Mr. Robert is quite well--as well as ever he wor in his life--do you think he remembers?"

"Not he. He'll never remember again. They never do."

"But, aunt, they never get well, either."