Stephen crossed the little wood bridge in front, went up to the
cottage door, and opened it without knock or signal of any kind.
Exclamations of welcome burst from some person or persons when the
door was thrust ajar, followed by the scrape of chairs on a stone
floor, as if pushed back by their occupiers in rising from a
table. The door was closed again, and nothing could now be heard
from within, save a lively chatter and the rattle of plates.
Chapter VIII
'Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord.'
The mists were creeping out of pools and swamps for their
pilgrimages of the night when Stephen came up to the front door of
the vicarage. Elfride was standing on the step illuminated by a
lemon-hued expanse of western sky.
'You never have been all this time looking for that earring?' she
said anxiously.
'Oh no; and I have not found it.'
'Never mind. Though I am much vexed; they are my prettiest. But,
Stephen, what ever have you been doing--where have you been? I
have been so uneasy. I feared for you, knowing not an inch of the
country. I thought, suppose he has fallen over the cliff! But now
I am inclined to scold you for frightening me so.'
'I must speak to your father now,' he said rather abruptly; 'I
have so much to say to him--and to you, Elfride.'
'Will what you have to say endanger this nice time of ours, and is
it that same shadowy secret you allude to so frequently, and will
it make me unhappy?'
'Possibly.
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