softening of his tone. 'There's nought for ye t' cry ower.'

She sank on to the stones, passionately sobbing in hysterical and
defenceless despair. Anthony stood a moment, gazing at her in clumsy
perplexity: then, coming close to her, put his hand on her shoulder, and
said gently:

'Coom, lass, what's trouble? Ye can trust me.'

She shook her head faintly.

'Ay, but ye can though,' he asserted, firmly. 'Come, what is't?'

Heedless of him, she continued to rock herself to and fro, crooning in
her distress:

'Oh! I wish I were dead!... I wish I could die!'

--'Wish ye could die?' he repeated. 'Why, whatever can't be that's
troublin' ye like this? There, there, lassie, give ower: it 'ull all
coom right, whatever it be--'

'No, no,' she wailed. 'I wish I could die!... I wish I could die!'

Lights were twinkling in the village below; and across the valley
darkness was draping the hills. The girl lifted her face from her hands,
and looked up at him with a scared, bewildered expression.

'I must go home: I must be getting home,' she muttered.