"Is it really you, my child?" said Godfrey, in an uncertain voice--for, if it was indeed she, why did she not speak, and why did she look so scared at the sight of him? "O Cousin Godfrey!" gasped Letty, then first finding a little voice, "you gave me such a start!" "Why should you be so startled at seeing me, Letty?" he returned. "Am I such a monster of the darkness, then?" "You came all at once," replied Letty, gathering courage from the playfulness of his tone, "and blocked up the door with your shoulders, so that not a ray of light fell on your face; and how was I to know it was you, Cousin Godfrey?" From a paleness grayer than death, her face was now red as fire; it was the burning of the lie inside her. She felt all a lie now: there was the good that Tom had brought her! But the gloom was friendly. With a resolution new to herself, she went up to Godfrey and said: "If you are going to the town, let me walk with you, Cousin Godfrey. It is getting so dark." She felt as if an evil necessity--a thing in which man must not believe--were driving her. But the poor child was not half so deceitful inside as the words seemed to her issuing from her lips. It was such a relief to be assured Godfrey had not seen Tom, that she felt as if she could forego the sight of Tom for evermore. Her better feelings rushed back, her old confidence and reverence; and, in the altogether nebulo-chaotic condition of her mind, she felt as if, in his turn, Godfrey had just appeared for her deliverance. "I am not going to the town, Letty," he answered. "I came to meet you, and we will go home together. It is no use waiting for the rain to stop, and about as little to put up an umbrella, I have brought your waterproof, and we must just take it as it comes." The wind was up again, and the next moment Letty, on Godfrey's arm, was struggling with the same storm she had so lately encountered leaning on Tom's, while Tom was only too glad to be left alone on the floor of the dismal hut, whence he did not venture to rise for some time, lest any the most improbable thing should happen, to bring Mr. Wardour back. He was as mortally afraid of being discovered as any young thief in a farmer's orchard. He had a dreary walk back to the public house where he had stabled his horse; but he trudged it cheerfully, brooding with delight on Letty's beauty, and her lovely confidence in Tom Helmer--a personage whom he had begun to feel nobody trusted as he deserved. "Poor child!" he said to himself--he as well as Godfrey patronized her--"what a doleful walk home she will have with that stuck-up old bachelor fellow!"