Rachel abstractedly nodded assent. The golden light from the west transfigured her, as she stood in the doorway. She was pale, but it seemed to Janet that she was no longer excited--that there was in her too something of the confidence which had sprung up in the heart of her friend. She had the look of one for whom the Valley of the Shadow is past, and her beauty had never struck Janet as it struck her at that moment. Its grosser elements seemed all refined away. The girlish look was quite gone; she seemed older and graver; but there breathed about her "a diviner air." Janet, who was much the shorter, mounted on the step to kiss her. Caresses were not at all common between them, but Rachel returned it, and their eyes met in a quiet look which said what her lips forbore. Then Janet departed, and Rachel waved to her as she passed through the gate. Hastings crossed the yard, and Rachel called to him. "Are you off soon?" "No, Miss. I shall sleep over the stable. That horse wants looking after." Rachel acquiesced, with a vague feeling of satisfaction, and Hastings disappeared within the stable opposite. She went back into the sitting-room, which was still flooded with the last reflections from the western sky beyond the fields, though the light was fading rapidly, and the stars were coming out. What a strange effect it was--she suddenly noticed it afresh--that of the two large windows exactly facing each other in so small a room! One had an odd sense of being indoors and out, at the same time; the down on one side, the farm-yard on the other, and in the midst, the fire, the table and chairs, the pictures, and the red carpet, seemed all parts of the same scene. She made up the fire. She brought in a few Xmas roses, from a border under the kitchen window, and arranged them in a glass on the table. It was then time to draw the blinds. But she could not make up her mind to shut out the saffron sky, or the view of the road. Something in the distance!--an approaching figure, and the noise of a motor-bicycle. She caught at a chair a moment, as though to steady herself; and then she went to the window, and stood there watching. He saw her quite plainly in the level light, and leaving his bicycle at the gate, he came towards her. There was no one in the yard, and before he entered he stood a moment, bare-headed, gazing at her, as she stood framed in the window. Everything that she wished to know was written in his face. A little sob broke the silence of the sitting-room. Then he opened the doors and closed them behind him. Without a word she seemed to glide over the room towards him; and now, she was on his breast, gathered close against the man's passionately beating heart. Neither spoke--neither was able to speak. Then--suddenly--a crash of breaking glass--a shot. The woman he was holding fell from Ellesborough's arms; he only just caught her. Another shot--which grazed his own coat. "Rachel!"