Some hours later, when the evening light had faded and the crescent of the moon shone on the garden-paths--in the time of darkness and silence, of barred doors and closed windows, the lodgers at the Farm returned. Tim was waiting for them in the shadowed, moonlit yard, having undertaken that office in order that the yard-boy might go home--but he did not look on them with the eyes of favour, being displeased, like the rest of the household, at the lateness of their return. On their part, the lodgers appeared to be in the worst of tempers--they did not even speak to each other; and James Gillan got down without offering any assistance to his sister, and strode away into the darkness. Tina was more gracious; she hastened into the house where her bright fire was welcome even on an August night, and condescended to address to Mrs Robson some words of apology for their late arrival. It had not been her fault--her uncle had been away from home--and her brother had insisted on an excursion which she had not herself desired. Mrs Robson received her excuses willingly, being only anxious that her own tale should be told. What the proud girl suffered during the course of that narration the farmer’s wife had not tact enough to imagine; and, indeed, since there was no light but firelight in the room, she could see only the outline of a face that was turned away from her. But when Tina at last moved, and the rising flames shone on her features, it became obvious that they were flushed as if with fury. Before, however, she had time to speak, the farmer’s wife had some other news to give--she was to tell Miss Gillan that Nat Salter had been waiting all the evening at the Farm. And, as if on her tumult of anger a new idea had fallen, Tina ordered with shining eyes that he should be summoned immediately. What did she want with him, why should her tempestuous anger be calmed at once by the thought of this interview; what possible advantage could she hope to gain from one who was only a village-labourer? Something must have moved her--perhaps a secret hope of obtaining privately a clue to the conduct of her brother; or at any rate of learning more of her uncle, the Squire’s old acquaintance, from one who was reckoned a favourite of the Squire. These thoughts may have influenced her--for she loved such devices--but too possibly another feeling stirred as well, her insane habit of compelling admiration, reckless from whom or from what source it came. If she had been humiliated by her uncle--well, she would prove to herself that she could still triumph over men.