With parted lips she waited, half longing, half dreading, to hear him speak. It seemed ages before he found his voice, but at last, with a sudden little shake of the head, as if he were, as he would have expressed it, "pulling himself together," he took off his wide hat and slowly turned his eyes from the beautiful face of the girl to the stern and now set face of the woodman. "Why didn't you tell me that you had a lady--ladies with you?" half angrily, half apologetically. Then he turned quickly, impulsively, to Una. "I hope you will forgive me. I had no idea that there was anyone here excepting himself. Of course I would rather have got into the first ditch than have disturbed you. I hope, I do hope you believe that, though I can't hope you'll forgive me. Good-night," and inclining his head he turned to the door. Una, who had listened with an intent, rapt look on her face, as one sees a blind man listen to music, drew a little breath of regret as he ceased speaking, and then, with a little, quick gesture, laid her hand on her father's arm. It was an imploring touch. It said as plainly as if she had spoken: "Do not let him go." "Having forced your way into my house you--may remain." "Thanks. I should not think of doing so. Good-night." "No; you must not go. He does not mean it. You have made him angry. Please do not go!" The young man hesitated, and the woodman, with a gesture that was one of resigned despair, shut the door. Then he turned and pointed to the next room. "There's a fire there," he said. "I'd rather be out in the wood by far," he said, "than be here feeling that I have made a nuisance of myself. I'd better go." But Gideon Rolfe led the way into the next room, and after another look from Mrs. Rolfe to Una, the young man followed. Una stood in the center of the room looking at the door behind which he had disappeared, like one in a dream. Then she turned to Mrs. Rolfe. "Shall I go, mother?" "Yes. No. Wait till your father comes in." After the lapse of ten minutes the woodman and the woodman's guest re-entered. The latter had exchanged his wet clothes for a suit of Gideon's, which, though it was well-worn velveteen, failed to conceal the high-bred air of its present wearer. Meanwhile Mrs. Rolfe had been busily spreading the remains of the supper. "'Tis but plain fare, sir," she said; "but you are heartily welcome." "Thanks. It looks like a banquet to me," he added, with the short laugh which seemed peculiar to him. "I haven't tasted food, as tramps say, since morning." "Dear! dear!" exclaimed the wife. Una, calling up a long line of heroes, thought first of Ivanhoe, then--and with a feeling of satisfaction--of Hotspur. Figure matched face. Though but twenty-two, the frame was that of a trained athlete--stalwart, straight-limbed, muscular; and with all combined a grace which comes only with birth and breeding.