It was dark, and the long hill that stretched above her was black and ominous. The lights of Moffatt's showed, to the right at the top, and the darker shape of its buildings cut the lighter gray of the sky. There was a lamp-post at the corner of the road, and as she closed the gates behind her with a clang she heard a voice say, “Good evening, Miss Desart,” and saw that Mr. Perrin was at her side. Mr. Perrin always made her feel nervous, and now, in the dark, she instinctively shrank back, but it was only for an instant, and she was immediately ashamed of her fears. She could not see his face, but she fancied that his voice trembled—-he seemed troubled about something; and then that feeling of pity that she had for him before came upon her again, and her voice was softer and more tender. “It was—um—a great piece of good fortune for me that I should be passing just when you were coming out—a great piece of good fortune.” He seemed very nervous. “And for me too,” she said; “this hill grows extraordinarily dark, and I stayed on longer than I ought to have done. Have you been paying calls, too?” “Oh, no! I—um—never pay calls—merely a stroll down to the village to buy some tobacco—merely that—nothing more... yes, merely that... simply some tobacco.” She felt his agitation, and wished that the top of the hill might be reached as speedily as possible, but she fancied a little that he lingered. She hastened her steps. “I'm not sure that it is n't raining—I felt a drop just now, I thought—and it was such a lovely afternoon.” “Oh, no, I assure you—” and then he suddenly stopped. She was frightened—quite unreasonably. She wanted to reach the warmth and light of Mrs. Comber's drawing-room as soon as possible and escape from this strange, awkward man. She broke the silence. “How is Mr. Traill getting on at the Lower School? I hope you all like him. The boys seem to have taken to him; but then, of course, his football is a quick road to favor.” Mr. Perrin seemed to be swallowing his teeth. He coughed and choked. “Ah, well, yes, Traill—young, of course, young, and one can only learn by experience. Perhaps just a little inclined to be cock-sure—dangerous thing to be too certain—a fault of youth, of course.” “Oh, I've found him,” said Isabel, “very modest and pleasant. Of course, I haven't seen very much of him, but I must say that what I 've seen of him I've liked.” They were nearly at the top of the hill; the big black gates cut the horizon. In the light of the lamps at the corner of the road Isabel saw Mr. Perrin's face. It looked very white under the gaslight, and he was clenching and unclenching his hands. His cap was on one side, his tie had risen at the back above his collar... his eyes were looking into hers and beseeching her like the eyes of a dumb animal. They had come to the gates. “Miss Desart...” They both came to a halt in the road. “Yes?” she said, smiling at him. “I want you to... I'd be awfully glad one day if...”