So Jacky with much weariness, physical and mental, endured the visit to the Fairy Well; and then under the safe conduct of Tam, Mrs. Young's youngest son, and "convoyed" half way by Bessie and Michael, returned to Aberford. The night had fallen before she reached Miss Crankie's house. Anne, newly returned from a long and ineffectual survey of Schole, had passively submitted to have candles placed upon her table by Miss Crankie's servant. She still sat by the window, however, looking out upon that centre of mysterious interest. It was perfectly still--only a faint reflection of light upon the dark water told of a watcher in the high chamber of the desolate house. Jacky entered, and Anne turned to ask her kindly how she had enjoyed her visit. "I dinna ken, Miss Anne," said Jacky, "but if ye please--" "What, Jacky?" "Would ye let me draw down the blind, and put in your chair to the table, because I've something to tell you, Miss Anne." Anne consented immediately. The room looked, as dusky parlors will look by faint candle-light in the evenings of bright summer days, very dull and forlorn and melancholy. Anne seated herself smiling by the table; she expected some chronicle of little Bessie's kindred, or at the utmost some confession of petty ill-doing, which burdened Jacky's conscience. Jacky's conscience was exceedingly tender; she did make such confessions sometimes. "If ye please, Miss Anne," began Jacky earnestly, "Bessie's aunt kens Jean Miller." "And who is Jean Miller, Jacky?" said Anne, smiling. "And if ye please, Miss Anne, Jean Miller was in the wood by the waterside, at the brae, where the road goes to the Milton farm, eighteen years ago, on the twenty first of June." It was Anne's turn to start, and look up anxiously now. Jacky went on in the firm steadiness of strong excitement. "And if ye please, Miss Anne, she saw a man; and it wasna Mr. ---- it wasna the gentleman they ca' young Redheugh--" "Who was it, Jacky?" "His face was whiter than white cloth, and he was like as if the blood was standing still in his veins, and he was running straight on, as if he neither saw the road nor who was looking at him; and as he ran, he wipit his brow, for a' that he was whiter than death." Anne was walking through the room in burning agitation; she could not rest--now she came up to Jacky, as the girl made a pause for breath, and grasped her arm. "Who was he, Jacky--who was he?" "If ye please, Miss Anne, it was the gentleman at Schole. She called him Mr. Patrick Lillie."