Pacing slowly together, were Herbert Dare and Anna. Now moving on, a few steps; now pausing to converse more at ease. William drew a deep breath. He saw quite enough to be sure this was not the first time they had so paced together: and thought after thought crowded on his mind; one idea, one remembrance chasing another. Was this the explanation of the plaid cloak, which had paraded stealthily on that very field-path during the past winter? There could not be a doubt of it. And was it in this manner that Anna's flying absences from home were spent--absences which she, in her unpardonable deceit, had accounted for to Patience by saying that she was with Mrs. Halliburton? Alas for Anna! Alas for all who deviate by an untruth from the path of rectitude! If the misguided child--she was little better than a child--could only have seen the future that was before her! It may have been very pleasant, very romantic to steal a march on Patience, and pace out there in the cold, chattering to Herbert Dare; listening to his protestations that he cared for no one in the world but herself; never had cared, never should care: but it was laying up for Anna a day of reckoning, the like of which had rarely fallen on a young head. William seemed to take it all in at a glance; and, rising tumultuously over other unpleasant thoughts, came the remembrance of Henry Ashley's misplaced and ill-starred love. With another deep breath, that was more like a groan than anything else--for Herbert Dare never brought good to any one in his life, and William knew it--William set off towards them. Whether they heard footsteps, or whether they thought the time for parting had come, certain it was that Herbert was gone before William could reach them, and Anna was speeding towards her home with a fleet step. William placed himself in her way, and she started aside with a scream that went echoing through the field. Then they had not heard him. "William, is it thee? Thee hast frightened me nearly out of my senses." "Anna," he gravely said, "Patience is waiting for you." Anna Lynn's imagination led her to all sorts of fantastic fears. "Oh, William, thee hast not been in to Patience!" she exclaimed, in sudden trembling. "Thee hast not been to our house to seek me!" They had reached his gate now. He halted, and took her hand in his, his manner impressive, his voice firm. "Anna, I must speak to you as I would to my own sister; as I might to Janey, had she lived, and been drawn into this terrible imprudence. Though, indeed, I should not then speak, but act. What tales are they that Herbert Dare is deceiving you with?" "Hast thee been in to Patience? Hast thee been in to Patience?" reiterated Anna. "Patience knows nothing of this. She thinks you are at our house. I ask you, Anna, what foolish tales Herbert Dare is deceiving you with?" Anna--relieved on the score of her fright--shook her head petulantly. "He is not deceiving me with any. He would not deceive."