For a moment longer she struggled with memory; then her face grew empty as of old, and she picked up her flowers and fell to talking babe-talk to them. But her witless moods held lighter sway nowadays; reason was coming slowly back, and day by day her mind returned more often from childishness into the piteous strife of sanity. She got to her feet soon, and threw the flowers from her, and looked with troubled eyes toward Marshcotes. "I might go and find Sexton Witherlee," she said, halting with one finger on her lip; "he is so wise, and he may tell me what I want to learn. Yes, I must find the Sexton." A crackling of twigs came from up the Dene, and turning affrightedly she saw Shameless Wayne striding along the narrow path. "Why, little bairn, what art doing here?" he cried, as she ran to him with hands outstretched in welcome. "Thinking, Ned—always thinking. I want to remember—oh, I want to remember—but the thoughts will never stay still enough for me to put my hand on them. I have been trying to catch the little fish in the stream yonder, and it was just the same; they stayed till I had all but caught them, and then they glanced and flickered, flickered and glanced, until I could not see them for the splashes which they made." "Bide awhile, bairn," he said kindly; "thy thoughts will come tame to hand one day, never fear." "Art going home, Ned?" she said, after a silence. "I was crossing to Marshcotes kirkyard, but if thou’lt come into the fields with me, and talk, I’ll ask naught better." "I’m going to Marsh, but only to get to saddle and be off again. Better talk to the Sexton this morning, and I’ll walk with thee after dinner.—Nay! Never look so downcast. ’Tis only that there’s work to be done up at Bents Farm, and I shall scarce get there and back as ’tis by dinner-time." Again the puzzled look, which told that she was doubtful lest this returning memory of hers were leading her astray. "I thought, Ned—I thought thou hadst gone there yesterday? Well-away, the days slip past, and sometimes I forget to count them; was it not Thursday yesterday—and Friday today—and what comes after?" Her eyes filled with tears. "It is so hard, dear, to forget and to know that all the world is pitying me." "Tush, bairn! Thou canst remember nigh as well as any of us now. And thou’rt right about Bents Farm; I should have gone there yestermorn, but was prevented. There! Find out yond friendly Sexton of thine, and show him how this fair spring weather is warming thee back to memory." "Thou’lt not forget to walk with me after dinner?" she said. "Not I.—The stream’s over-wide for thee, is’t? Well, that is soon reckoned with." Laughing, he picked her up and leaped across the babbling water; then set her down, and turned to wave farewell as he swung round the corner of the path.