"Ay, dear, and I worked five years till I was well enough off to give you a good home, and please God we'll have thirty more years together-- here, or in the better world." Luke Ross felt that the words were meant for him, and he tried to catch Sage's eye, but she would not raise her face, and he sat thinking that after all the farmer was right. There was a dead silence in the room for some minutes, and then Dr Vinnicombe exclaimed-- "Come, Churchwarden, here are Michael Ross and I famishing for a game at whist." "To be sure," cried the Churchwarden. "Now, girls, let's have the card-table. My word, what a night! It's a nipper indeed. Let's have another log on, old lady, and--What the dickens is the matter with those dogs?" For just then, as the flames and sparks were roaring up the chimney, the two dogs in the yard set up a furious barking, growing so excited, and tearing so at their chains, that the Churchwarden went out to the door, opened it, and a rush of cold, searching wind roared into the room as he shouted-- "Down, Don! Quiet, Rover! Who's there?" "Port--lock, ahoy!" came in reply, and Rue turned pale, uttered a low moan, and clung to her sister, who trembled in turn as another voice shouted-- "Call off the dogs, Mr Portlock; it is only I." "Sage," whispered Rue, with her face close to her sister's ear, "let us go away." "Why, it must be Mr Frank Mallow," cried Mrs Portlock, excitedly, and she glanced in a frightened way at her nieces. "Yes, that it is," she said, beneath her breath, as a tall, dark man with a heavy beard entered the room, closely followed by Cyril Mallow. "Beg pardon," he said, in a curious, half-cynical way. "Didn't expect to see me, I suppose. Only got back this afternoon; thought I should like to see all old friends." "Hearty glad to see you back again," said the Churchwarden, frankly. "Sit down, Mr Cyril," he continued, as the new-comer shook hands. "Take a chair, Mr Frank. It's like old times to see you here again." "Hah! yes. How well you look, farmer, and you too, Mrs Portlock. Miss Sage, I presume? Why, what a change! Grown from a slip of a girl to a charming woman. And how is Miss Rue Portlock?" he said, with mock deference, as he fixed the pale, shrinking face with his dark eyes. "I am quite well, Mr Frank," said Rue, making an effort to be composed, but not taking the visitor's extended hand. "John, dear," she continued, turning to her husband, "this is Mr Frank Mallow, of whom you have heard me speak." "Ah! to be sure," said John Berry. "Glad to know my little wife's friends. How are you, sir--how are you?" Frank Mallow's eyes closed slightly, and he gazed in a half-curious, contemptuous way at John Berry as he shook hands, and then turned to Luke Ross. "And is this Miss Sage's husband?" he said, laughingly, but in a sarcastic way that turned Sage cold.