As the girl and the old man stood on the platform, after the door was shut behind them, he was the first to speak, as she unconsciously drew a little nearer to his side before a passing gust. "I must have a kiss, my dear--one little kiss, on this, our marriage eve." Her first impulse was to push him rudely from her, to deny him flatly such a request, though surely a lover's prerogative on the eve of marriage. Then, remembering the purpose for which she had followed him into the night, and the appeal she was about to make, she quickly realized that she must touch his compassion, not arouse his prejudice, if she would hope to win. Perhaps a submissive acquiescence on her part at this important moment might help to gain her cause. She paused a brief moment, nerving herself for the trying ordeal, then resolutely putting aside her aversion, holding in check all mutinous thoughts, she hastily put up her lips and lightly touched his red, coarse cheek. As she did so, a sudden flash from the muttering sky, like a reproof from heaven itself, for the act, made day of the night for one brief instant, and the clearly defined scene was enveloped in darkness again. The Squire's back was partly turned toward the road, but Sally, looking out full upon it, saw in that brief flash of vivid light, clearly defined against the white background of the pike, Milton Derr standing in the road not ten paces away. CHAPTER XXVI. A pall of swiftly enveloping blackness closed about the toll-house and its surroundings, which had been revealed for one short space. The girl started back with a sharp cry, wrung from her in surprise and consternation at the sudden apparition she had beheld, while the Squire, naturally mistook her perturbation for fear of the storm. "Come! don't be afraid, my dear, you are quite safe," he said, soothingly, striving clumsily at the words to slip his arm about her waist. But she adroitly avoided the movement and retreated toward the door of the toll-house. "Hurry home!" she cried anxiously, thinking rather of ridding herself of his presence, than of entertaining a fear for his safety. "The storm is near at hand." "It's a good deal bluster," answered the Squire calmly, after a critical glance heavenward, "It may not rain at all. I hope it may not, as to-morrow's our wedding--only think of that, chickie, our wedding day!" "Hurry home!" repeated Sally, faintly, scarcely knowing what she was saying, and only desirous of hastening his departure, and ridding herself of his hateful presence--doubly hateful at this moment. There was a touch of very entreaty in her voice. "I thought you were going to ride with me a little way," remonstrated the Squire in disappointed tones. "You said you were." "No! no!" answered the girl hastily, "it's dangerous--besides, it's growing late."