THE SURRENDER AT DISCRETION. 421 



appurtenances of dogs, and trees, and slumbering figures, 

 or the lonely lamp in the lantern would loom out of the 

 brine of her tears. It was the ghost that would not 

 down, and all the while came back to her again and 

 again in every form or tone the scene at Bonda Key, 

 where she had repulsed the single hope she now would 

 give her life to recall. 



Mike's measured, quiet demeanor that is natural to the 

 woods, protected his feelings from scrutiny during his 

 visit to the Moorlands, if he had any that he wanted 

 to conceal. His frankness was like an armor that made 

 fall to the ground all questions and suspicions. Lou 

 watched him with a carefulness that left no act or word 

 unnoticed, and yet with all, learned nothing of his hopes 

 or his inner thoughts. He seemed to tell all, yet she sus- 

 pected and watched for more that might be unsaid. 

 When she had his familiar company she feigned to her- 

 self that it was of little value, but when she had it not, 

 its absence left her life vacant, and his deference was a 

 burning reproach. She knew he was going soon back 

 to whence he came. He seemed " weary of the rolling 

 hours." As a migratory bird that sees the passing flocks 

 against the sky, or a traveller that hears the airs of his 

 native land, he seemed to be looking southward and 

 counting the time. The knowledge of his going kept 

 Lou's eye anxious, and made her toss and mutter in her 

 sleep. Was it a consciousness he was by, that bade her 

 wake? Did a paining of the heart make her feel he was 

 nearing her in her sleep ? Was it a conscious presence 



