They were paying the long-talked-of visit to Bessmoor, and Philippa, who had before now explored most of the roads near Bessacre, had chosen this unfrequented lane in preference to the usual road which led through the village; partly because of its beauty, and partly because she had no wish that they should meet Isabella Vernon, who so often walked upon the upper part of the moor. She had seen her on the preceding day, and had given her a full account of the invalid, but she did not intend that he should be confronted by an old acquaintance if it could possibly be avoided. It was, of course, possible that he would not recognise her, but safer to run no risks. Slowly they climbed the incline, the pony slipping and stumbling as the sand crumbled away from under his feet. "It is a hard pull for the poor old thing," said Philippa penitently; "I ought not to have come this way." "We'll give him a rest when we get to the top. It won't hurt him, but it makes me feel as if I ought to get out and walk." "You ought to do no such thing," she retorted quickly. "The very idea is preposterous." Francis laughed at her vehemence. "You need not think that you are going to pamper me like this for the rest of my life. We shall be taking long walks together, you and I, very soon. Oh, it is a joy to be alive on such a day as this. Look at that rabbit scuttling away up the lane. It reminds me----" He stopped and hesitated "I can't remember--but I seem to---- Oh, drive on, Phil. Yes,"--he spoke excitedly,--"it is coming back to me now--that tree and that gate." They had reached the top of the hill where the lane ended at the edge of the moor. There was a crooked oak-tree standing on the right at the junction of two banks which divided some cultivated land from the heath, and under the tree was a gate, broken from its hinges and lying half upon the ground. "Phil, darling, this is the place. I know now why you brought me here. It was so dear of you to think of it." He laid his hand on hers, and then lowered his voice as the groom who had been walking behind the carriage came forward to the pony's head. "Hang the man!" he said boyishly, "let him wait here while we go on a little further. I want to talk to you. Oh, I can see you now. We had been walking up the field. It was planted with turnips, and a rabbit ran out just here. Then--oh, sweetheart, I am glad to have remembered. It is one more memory of you. It was the happiest day of my life. You had on a scarlet cap. I wish you had put it on to-day--I always loved you in it." A little chill of some inexplicable feeling ran through Philippa. It was not dismay, for he had often alluded to some detail of Phil's appearance which he recalled. She had never failed to satisfy him with some light answer--she could not make it out. However, it was gone in a moment, and she listened again to what he was saying.