On reaching the quarry, she stayed her feet. The speed at which she had come, and an agitation which was increasing, made breathing so difficult that she turned a few paces aside, and sat down upon a rough block of stone, long since quarried and left unused. Just before her was a small patch of marshy ground, long grass growing about a little pool. A rook had alighted on the margin, and was pecking about. Presently it rose on its heavy wings; she watched it flap athwart the dun sky. Then her eye fell on a little yellow flower near her feet, a flower she did not know. She plucked and examined it, then let it drop carelessly from her hand. The air was growing brown; a storm threatened. She looked about her with a hasty fear, then resumed her walk to the upper part of the Heath. Beaching the smooth sward, she made straight across it for Dagworthy's house. Crossing the garden, she was just at the front door, when it was opened, and by Dagworthy himself. His eyes fell before her. 'Will you come this way?' he said, indistinctly. He led into the large sitting-room where he had previously entertained Emily and her father. As soon as he had closed the door, he took eager steps towards her. 'You have come,' he said. 'Something told me you would come this morning. I've watched at the window for you.' The assurance of victory had softened him. His voice was like that of one who greets a loving mistress. His gaze clung to her. 'I have come to bring you this!' Emily replied, putting upon the table the heavy envelope. 'It is the money we owe you.' Dagworthy laughed, but his eyes were gathering trouble. 'You owe me nothing,' he said, affecting easiness. 'How do you mean that?' Emily gave him a direct look. Her manner had now nothing of fear, nor even the diffidence with which she had formerly addressed him. She spoke with a certain remoteness, as if her business with him were formal. The lines of her mouth were hard; her heavy lids only half raised themselves. 'I mean that you owe nothing of this kind,' he answered, rather confusedly. His confidence was less marked; her look overcame his. 'Not ten pounds?' 'Well, _you_ don't.' He added, 'Whose is this money?' 'It is my own; I have earned it.' 'Does your father know you are paying it?' He does not. I was not likely to speak to him of what you told me. There is the debt, Mr. Dagworthy; we have paid it, and now I will leave you. He examined her. Even yet he could not be sure that he understood. In admitting her, he had taken it for granted that she could come with but one purpose. It was but the confirmation of the certain hope in which he had lived through the night. Was the girl a simpleton? Had she got it into her head that repayment in this way discharged his hold upon her father? It was possible; women are so ludicrously ignorant of affairs. He smiled, though darkly. 'Why have you brought this money?' he asked. She was already moving nearer to the door. He put himself in her way.