gate, for he was only just opening it and going up the walk as they came by. The light from the cottage windows fell upon him as he approached the door and showed his figure more clearly although his face was still hidden. Betsey looked at him curiously but David seemed too much occupied to give him more than a passing glance. They left the lane, skirted the wall and came finally to the place they sought.
"Now," directed David, "here is a broken tree leaning against the wall. Up you go."
With a little assistance and not much scrambling, she clambered to the top of the wall. They were at the back of the house here, with the nearest line of blackened ruin not a hundred feet away. A spreading willow grew so close to the wall that its feathery boughs brushed Elizabeth's hair and passed smooth fingers across her cheek. The stones were warm under their hands, from the past day's sun, their heads were among the leaves and birds' nests, very high, it seemed, above the ground. The whole desolate place before them was very still.
"The moon will be up presently," David whispered, "so I think It will come soon, while it is still dark."
Betsey trembled a little in the warm night air, but said nothing. The minutes passed, then a half hour, finally the hour itself struck from a spire in the vil-
