Evatt parted for the night in the upper hail, the former being,
as usual, not tipsy, but in a jovial mood toward all things; and
as this attitude is conducive to sleep, his snores were ere long
reverberating to all waking ears. One pair of these were so
keenly alive to every noise that not the chirp of a cricket escaped
them, and from time to time their owner started at the smallest
sound. Owing to this attention, they heard presently the creak
of the stairs, the soft opening of the front door, and even the swish
of feet on the grass. Then, though the ears fairly strained to
catch the least noise, came a silence, save for the squire's
trumpeting, for what seemed to the girl a period fairly interminable.

Finally the rustling of the grass told of the return of the
prowler, and as the girl heard it she once more began trembling,
"Oh!" she moaned. "If only I had n't--if only he'd go
away!" She rose from the bed, and stole to the window.

"Mr. Evatt, I'm so frightened, I don't dare," she whispered
to the figure standing below. "Wait till to-morrow
night!

"Nonsense!" said the man, so loudly that Janice was more
cared than ever. "I told ye it must be to-night. Come down
quickly."

"Oh, please!" moaned Janice.

"Dost want to be the wife of that gawk?" demanded Evatt,
impatiently.