"You are in the right, as usual, good Master Philpotts, and foreseeing that you could not be swayed without the Governor's order, the Governor's order I have brought for a half-hour's talk with the prisoner, you meanwhile to be within call, but not within hearing. See! is't not writ as I have said?" she asked, holding the paper toward him. "I am not such a churl as to dispute a lady's word," said Philpotts, glad in this chivalrous manner to evade a too severe strain on his powers of reading a written document. "The Governor's order shall be obeyed," and swinging back the door he closed it again behind him and resumed his march from the green pine-tree to the brown one, and from the brown tree back again to the green, watching the yellow sun set behind the distant hills. His taciturnity yielded at last to the extent of one exclamation, "By the Lord Harry, what a coil!" As Elinor Calvert entered she threw back her sable hood, and her pale, beautiful face, surrounded by its golden hair, shone like the moon against the dark setting of the tobacco-hung rafters. Her only ornament was the diamond crescent at her throat, which glistened as a ray of the setting sun struck upon it. Her eyes were full of unshed tears, and her lips trembled so that she could scarcely control them enough to utter the words she had come to speak. Her hands were clenched tightly, as if by that force alone she held to her resolution. Inside the door she waited for some word of welcome or greeting. She put up her hand to her throat as if to ease the sorrow which was rising and swelling within. By accident her fingers grasped the crescent, and she clung to it as to a talisman. Neville made no step toward her. He stood leaning against the wall, his arms folded before him. It was as if she were the criminal and he the judge. The silence was intolerable to Elinor. "Speak to me!" she cried at last, stretching out her hands toward him. Her voice betrayed a dry anguish in the throat, and her breath came in quick, short gasps. "Are you come as Governor Brent's messenger?" Elinor shivered as though his tone had more chill in it than the January air, but her own was equally haughty as she answered,-- "I come by permission of my kinsman, who never deserts a friend." "No, faith! since when the friend needs help he ceases to be one." "Your words are brutal." "Perchance. I have not been trained by your Fathers to mean one thing and say another." Elinor felt for her hood as though she would have drawn it over her head again and left without another word; then changing her mind, she advanced nearer. "This is not a kind greeting," she said, "for one who comes to help you." "If I were not past help I might have spoke more kindly."