him?  How is it he is in sic a state?  Fond o’ her, was he?  Yea, yea, even after she gave him the go-by.  Then it’s a weary Sabbath for him, if half they say be true.  What do they say?  They say she was queer when she came back.  Corp doesna say that.  Maybe no; but Francie Crabb does.  He says he met her on the station brae and spoke to her, and she said never a word, but put up her hands like as if she feared he was to strike her.  The Dundas lassies saw her frae their window, and her hands were at her ears as if she was trying to drown the sound o’ something.  Do you mind o’ her mother?  They say she was looking terrible like her mother.

It was only between the station and Gavinia’s house that she had been seen, but they searched far afield.  Tommy, accompanied by Corp, even sought for her in the Den.  Do you remember the long, lonely path between two ragged little dykes that led from the Den to the house of the Painted Lady?  It was there that Grizel had lived with her mamma.  The two men went down that path, which is oppressed with trees.  Elsewhere the night was not dark, but, as they had known so well when they were boys, it is always dark after evenfall in the Double Dykes.  That is the legacy of the Painted Lady.  Presently they saw the house—­scarcely the house, but a lighted window.  Tommy remembered the night when as a boy, Elspeth crouching beside him, he had peered in fearfully at that corner window on Grizel and her mamma, and the shuddersome things he had seen.  He shuddered at them again.

“Who lives there now?” he asked.

“Nobody.  It’s toom.”

“There is a light.”

“Some going-about body.  They often tak’ bilbie in toom houses, and that door is without a lock; it’s keepit close wi’ slipping a stick aneath it.  Do you mind how feared we used to be at that house?”

“She was never afraid of it.”

“It was her hame.”

He meant no more than he said, but suddenly they both stopped dead.

“It’s no possible,” Corp said, as if in answer to a question.  “It’s no possible,” he repeated beseechingly.

“Wait for me here, Corp.”

“I would rather come wi’ you.”

“Wait here!” Tommy said almost fiercely, and he went on alone to that little window.  It had needed an effort to make him look in when he was here before, and it needed a bigger effort now.  But he looked.

What light there was came from the fire, and whether she had gathered the logs or found them in the room no one ever knew.  A vagrant stated afterwards that he had been in the house some days before and left his match-box in it.

By this fire Grizel was crouching.  She was comparatively tidy and neat again; the dust was gone from her boots, even.  How she had managed to do it no one knows, but you remember how she loved to be neat.  Her hands were extended to the blaze, and she was busy talking to herself.

His hand struck the window heavily, and she looked up and saw him.  She nodded, and put her finger to her lips as a sign that he must be cautious.  She had often, in the long ago, seen her mother signing thus to an imaginary face at the window—­the face of the man who never came.