As Amy walked on her thoughts unconsciously wandered towards Jane and the strange account Hodge had given of her, and anxious as she was about her mother's letter, her mind was almost as much occupied now with Mrs. Marks' sister. She and the letter seemed irretrievably mixed up together in hopeless confusion. The fact was, Hodge had excited Amy's curiosity without being able to satisfy it in the smallest degree, so she was making innumerable conjectures at the truth, all more or less improbable when they came to be analysed. _Would_ the Brampton people be more clever than the Deane ones, and find out what seemed such a puzzle, and, as Hodge said, mystery to everyone? There was Mrs. Taylor, the village chatterbox, she surely would ferret it out, and what a wonderful tale she would make of it. Amy thought she would call at her cottage some day and broach the subject, and hear what she had to say about it. It could do no harm to hear what the village gossip said of poor crazy Jane and her sorrowful story. As she arrived at this conclusion, a horseman came in sight. It was Charles Linchmore. He was almost close by ere he recognised her. Then he drew rein. "Miss Neville!" he exclaimed, in surprise, "surely after your illness it is hardly prudent for you to be out on so damp a day." "It will not harm me," replied Amy. "Are you going much further? You will find it very dirty walking. Would it not be wiser to return home?" "No, I think not, as least not just yet; I am too anxious to remain at home. The walk will do me good." "I doubt that last assertion very much. It can do no one good being out in such weather," and dismounting, he walked by her side. "Why did you venture?" she asked. "I? Oh, nothing brings me to grief. I am a soldier, and ought to rough it." "Are ladies in your opinion so fragile that a slight shower will wash them away?" "This is not a slight shower, Miss Neville, but a nasty, misty rain, that does a deal more damage than a heavy down-pour." "I do not agree with you. The one is certainly disagreeable, but the other thoroughly drenches, and is more than disagreeable--it makes one out of temper." "I have thought more than once that that latter assertion of yours is with you an impossibility." "Ah! you were never more deceived. I am feeling vexed now," replied Amy. "Now?" returned Charles. "Yes. I have been terribly anxious all day, and it vexes me to hear anyone say I should return home, when I have come out purposely to get rid of my weariful thoughts. I know such a damp mist as this will never harm me half as much as they would." Charles waited, hoping she would say more, but she did not, so he broke the silence. "I have been to see Grant," he said. "I trust there has been no more fuss with the poachers?" "No," replied he carelessly, "but it seems they expect an attack to-night, that is, they are going out in expectation of something of the kind." "Of a fight with the poachers?"