Slowly she rose, and with downcast eyes moved toward the cottage. She passed in at the open door and looked round the room--that, too, seemed altered, something was missing; half-consciously she wandered round, touching with the same half-caressing gesture the chair on which Jack Newcombe had sat, opened the book at the page which she was reading while he was eating his supper; a spell seemed to have fallen upon her, and it was with a start like one awakening from a dream that she turned as a shadow fell across the room and Gideon Rolfe entered. She turned and looked at him questioningly, curiously, but without fear. The cry of alarm when he had broken in upon them by the lake had been on Jack's account, not her own; never since she could remember had Gideon Rolfe spoken harshly to her, looked angrily; without a particle of fear, rather with a vague wonder, she looked and waited for him to speak. The old man's face wore a strange expression; all traces of the fierce passion which had convulsed it a short time ago had passed away, and in its place was a stern gravity which was almost sad in its grim intensity. Setting his ax aside, he paced the room for a minute in silence, his brows knit, his hands clasped behind his back. Una glided to the window and looked out into the wood, her head leaning on her arm. "Una," he said, suddenly, his voice troubled and grave, but not unkind. She started, and looked around at him; her spirit had fled back to the lake again, and she had almost forgotten that he was in the room. "Una, you must not wander in the forest alone again." "No! Why not?" He hesitated a moment, as if he did not know how to answer her; then he said, with a frown: "Because I do not wish it--because the man you saw here last night, the man you were with by the lake, may come again"--a faint light of gladness shone in her eyes, and he saw it, and frowned sternly as he went on--"and I do not wish you to meet him." She was silent for a moment, her eyes downcast, her hands tightly clasped in front of her; then she looked up. "Father, tell me why you spoke so angrily to him--why do you not want him to come to Warden again?" "I spoke as he deserved," he answered; "and I would rather that Warden should be filled with wild beasts than that he should cross your path again." Her face paled slightly, and her eyes opened with wonder and pain. "Is he so very bad and wicked?" she asked, almost inaudibly. Gideon Rolfe strode to and fro for a moment before he answered. How should he answer her?--how warn and caution her without destroying the innocence which, like the sensitive plant, withers at a touch? "Is it not sufficient that I wish it, Una?" he said. "Why are you not satisfied? Wicked! Yes, he's wicked; all men are wicked, and he's the most wicked and base!" "You know him, father?" she asked. "You would not say so if you did not. I am sorry he is so bad." "Look at me, Una," he said.