with them, but were laden with a cold mist of rain almost as painful to meet, a mist which, indeed, as I hastily threaded my way through the yielding sand, soon turned to a downpour. Clearly, unless I wished to be drenched as well as benighted on this lonely waste, I must at once seek shelter; and, while I was disconsolately wondering whither I should bend my steps, a sudden ray of light drew my attention to the little habitation I had before noticed. Drawing my cloak closely round me I made my way thither with all the speed I could muster, and knocked loudly at the closed door; but my summons passed unheeded, being most probably unheard in the increasing fury of the gale; and, after repeated raps on the panels and rattlings of the latch, I went round to the window, in the hope that my efforts to attract attention might meet with some success from this point. No curtain hung behind the panes, and pressing my face close to them I peered into the room within. It was a small kitchen, kept with a neatness and cleanliness which one learns to expect among north-country folk. A small fire burnt upon the hearth, and a candle flickered in a tin sconce over the homely mantle-shelf. By the light of these I descried the figure of a woman sitting by the hearth; her hands were folded on her lap, and her eyes were fixed upon the fire. She might have been any age between fifty and sixty; the slight and erect form, and handsome face, rendered remarkable by strongly-marked black brows, would incline one to name the lesser figure, had not the deep lines about eyes and mouth, and the snow-white, if still abundant hair, inclined one to think her an older woman. But I was in no mood to examine or criticise just then; with my face still close to the casement I tapped sharply on the topmost pane. The woman started, and turned her face towards me, grasping the elbows of her chair with both hands, but not otherwise attempting to move. I tapped again, more impatiently. Still remaining seated she stretched out both arms towards the window, a smile breaking over her face. Such a strange smile! Tender, even yearning, and yet one might almost say, fearful. Losing patience, I tapped again, and nodded. With arms still stretched out she slowly left her chair and dropped upon her knees. Then taking advantage of a momentary lull in the storm I shook the crazy casement and shouted: “Let me in; I shall be wet to the skin!” At length she rose hurriedly to her feet; then, shading her eyes with her hand, made her way towards me. “Eh, dear!” she cried, as she drew near; “it’s not him—’tis a wumman!” “Oh, do let me in,” I pleaded. “See how it rains! I only ask for shelter until the storm is over.” She signed to me to go round to the door, and in another moment my feet were on the sanded floor within. “Dear o’ me,” she cried, “yo’re wet, ma’am; yo’re terrible wet. I wish I’d ha’ heerd yo’ before, but wind and rain were makkin’ sich a din I didn’t notice nothin’.”