It grew dark before he got home. No moon, and a cloudy night disturbed by threatenings or rather promise of rain, which the farmers were anxious for, as they generally are when a short break of fine weather bewilders their operations, in the north. As he turned out of the last cross road, and got upon the straight way to Stanton, he suddenly became aware of some one running by him on the green turf that edged the road and in the shadow of the hedgerow. Geoff was startled by the first sight of this moving shadow running noiselessly by his side. It was a safe country, where there was no danger from thieves, and a “highwayman” was a thing of the last century. But still Geoff shortened his whip in his hand with a certain sense of insecurity. As he did so a voice came from the shadow of the hedge. “It is but me, my young lord.” “You!” he cried. He was relieved by the sound, for a close attendant on the road in the dark, when all faces are alike undiscernible, is not pleasant. “What are you doing here, Bampfylde? Are you snaring my birds, or scaring them, or have you come to look after me?” “Neither the one nor the other,” said Wild Bampfylde. “I have other thoughts in my mind than the innocent creatures that harm no one. My young lord, I cannot tell you what is coming, but something is coming. It’s no you, and it’s no me, but it’s in the air; and I’m about, whatever happens. If you want me, I’ll aye be within call. Not that I’m spying on you; but whatever happens, I’m here.” “And I want you. I want to ask you something,” cried Geoff; but he was slow in putting his next question. It was about his cousin; and what he wanted was some one who would see, without forcing him to put them into words, the thoughts that arose in his mind. Therefore it was a long time before he spoke again. But in the silence that ensued it soon became evident to Geoff that the figure running along under the shadow of the bushes had disappeared. He stopped his horse, but heard no footfall. “Are you there, Bampfylde?” but his own voice was all he heard, falling with startling effect into the silence. The vagrant had disappeared, and not a creature was near. Geoff went on with a strange mixture of satisfaction and annoyance. To have this wanderer “about” seemed a kind of aid, and yet to have his movements spied upon did not please the young man. But Bampfylde was no spy. CHAPTER XXIV. THE SQUIRE AT HOME.