Hazel glanced at the gray chair,—no, she could not disturb that. She begged a shawl of Gyda, and was off, out of the door without more ado. But not to find Primrose. It rather suited the young lady's mood to be by herself; and so, noiselessly, Hazel flitted along through the starlight, without however being able to reach a point which looked straight down into the Hollow beyond the bend. The uneven ground, the unknown distances, baffled her. Standing still, she heard nothing. The starry sky overhead was not more calmly quiet than this portion of the darksome earth appeared to be. A little frosty, the air did not stir enough to rustle the leaves on the trees. Crickets and some other fall insects had it all their own way. Wych Hazel went over to the ground on the other side of the road and tried that. Frosty, and still, and starlight, it was on the other side of the road; in the bright gloom even her point of view did not seem to be changed. Her next move was back to the cottage. There she stood still upon the steps. Presently the door opened behind her. 'My little lady—' said Gyda. 'I am here, all safe.' 'Won't you come in?' 'But I cannot hear anything!' said Hazel. 'I might go a little bit down the road—' 'No,' said Gyda. 'He wouldn't have you, nor forgive me if I let you. There'll be no great trouble, my lady; my lad's men will all do what he bids them; and if there's trouble, he'll get it over.' 'Do you think so?'—She drew a long breath, stepping down off the stone again and listening. The old woman's hand came softly to hers to draw her in, for the watch had already lasted long; but just then a faint reddish light arose in the dark above the Hollow. 'What's that?' 'It's fire, my lady.' 'There!' Hazel exclaimed. 'O don't stay here—you will get cold; but just leave me.' Gyda would not leave her however, nor lose sight of her. Their words drew Prim to the door, who had earlier returned to the cottage. They all stood looking. There was a glow of light certainly; it brightened and spread for a while; yet it was rather like the glare from a good-sized bonfire than the token of any more serious conflagration. Nevertheless they watched it, the younger women painfully; until they saw that the light was stationary, did not increase, then certainly was less, then evidently fading. 'It's all getting over,' said Gyda; 'and it's not great thing at all. Come you in before the master gets back. It's your wisest.'