It was two o’clock when he returned, and gave Cicely such news as he had. The furnaces were only a couple of miles away; there was a camp there, and Soyland was picketed. But the soldiers could not keep the Holdsworth and Brotherton men from their own hills, and from behind a rock he had seen one or two by whom he did not especially want to be seen. On the Ridge to the westward of them, too, red spots were marching and counter-marching; but they were busiest behind them and to the north-east, Wadsworth way. “I’ll go out later in the afternoon,” he said. “I may run across a man I may speak to, for all the £200. Did you know your husband was worth £200, love?...” At four o’clock he went out again. It was past seven when he returned, and something in his cheerfulness seemed to alarm Cicely. “Tell me what’s the matter, dear,” she asked gently. “What matter, Cis?” “You’re putting it on, your lightness. What have you seen or heard?” “Nothing I didn’t know before, dear. I saw little Crutchie of Fluett, and he’s bringing us food to-night. It seems £200 tempts some of them; but that’s no news.” She pressed closer to him. “It would be kinder to tell me, dear; there’s no secrecy between us now, not like before.” He was silent for a long time. “Very well,” he said at last. “They’re flag-flapping. They began flag-flapping on Wadsworth Shelf when you turned off into the dean. They’ve seen you, or, maybe, both of us. It couldn’t be helped, for they’d have missed you in any case. Never mind.” It did not take her an instant to come to her decision. She sat up, suddenly very pale. “Arthur, you must leave me,” she said. “They can do nothing to me, and I’ll meet you somewhere in a week or two--a month or two--oh, Arthur!” “What’s that?” he said, with infinite gentleness. “No, dear. It would be just the same in a week or a month; they’d follow you. We’ll take our wedding-trip together, I think; won’t we, Jim?--No, darling; I decide this. It’s three quarters through to get to Soyland; another hill, then the Edge, and down into Ratchet, and over Chat Moss to Liverpool ... now say ‘Yes’--say it at once----” She made a lovely little murmuring against his shoulder, and he laughed. “That’s my lass. Now let’s talk.--I like your parson, Cis. Why, you’ve never asked me how I got along with him yet!...” At ten o’clock he went out again, and met Crutchie of Fluett at the appointed place. He was back by eleven. “Is it time to push on?” she asked. “No, dear,” he replied quietly; “I’ve brought food for another day here.” “Oh!...” she cried, tortured with apprehension; “what is it?” “Ssh! It makes no difference. I know ways they wouldn’t find in a year. It’s ten to one they’re mostly town men. Come and lie down, and trust your husband. Come....” It was long before she had sobbed herself to sleep in his arms, and he, his own brain busily working, heard her murmuring in her sleep from time to time through the night.