The time seemed winged by magic as it glided by, and, trembling and excited, she knew that the hour had nearly come for Sir Mark's return. Twice over messengers had arrived from him, in each case laden with presents, and bearing a letter full of words meant to be tender, but which excited her disgust. She had had to listen, also, to the fulsome adulation of Master Peasegood's successor, who, to her horror, contrived to get himself asked by the founder to stay at the house, where he became a spy and an incubus of which the poor girl seemed to be never rid. At length a last messenger arrived, bearing a fresh order to the founder, and requesting him to proceed with it at once, at the same time announcing Sir Mark's arrival on the morrow. That night Mace sat at her window debating within herself as to what she should do. A last appeal to her father had been so met that she felt desperate, and a hair's pull one way or the other would have been sufficient to draw her aside. The question she asked herself was, whether she should flee to Father Brisdone now, or wait until the eve of the wedding, and she decided for the latter course, as, sobbing bitterly, she told herself there was escape for her still if the father had not been seized. The night was dark with the darkness of autumn, and as she sat at the open window, with her cheek upon her hand, she gazed out at the dark Pool and listened to the murmur of the falling waters as they plashed musically amidst the stones and piles. Suddenly, in the midst of her despairing thoughts, her hand dropped on the window-sill, and her eyes dilated as she gazed before her at the broad green bank across the race, where four points of light shone out diamond-wise as in the happy days of her young love. "Gil," she cried below her breath, and her heart beat painfully as she gazed intently at the lights, which faded as quickly as they had appeared. Was it fancy--a trick, or some treachery? There were no glow-worms now. It was long past the time when they shed their tiny lights, and the appearance, if it were not fancy, could only be some accidental resemblance which she had magnified in her excited state. It was nothing, she said, as a feeling of misery came over her, and the tears rose to her eyes as she wondered where Gil could be, and whether he thought of her at that moment, when there was a slight rustle below, and she reached out of the window, as her name was uttered in a low, deep voice which she could not mistake. "Mace!" "Gil!" For answer a foot was placed upon the sill below. He sprang, and caught the mullion of her window, drew himself up and clung there, with both hands, as she flung her arms round his neck, and laid her face against his cheek. They were moments of ecstasy mingled with grief and pain, as in her delight at Gil's return Mace began to whisper to him of her terrible position.