Mr. John Massingbird’s conscience called up the little episode of the coveted kiss.  But it might not be altogether prudent to confess it in full conclave.

“It is true that I did joke Rachel about Luke,” he said.  “It seemed to anger her very much, and she paid me out with some hard words.  My mother returned at the same moment.  She asked what was the matter; I said I had joked Rachel about Luke, and that Rachel did not like it.”

“Yes, that was it,” acquiesced Mrs. Verner.  “I then told Rachel that in my opinion she would have done well to encourage Luke, who was a steady young man, and would no doubt have a little money.  Upon which she began weeping.  I felt rather vexed; not a word have I been able to say to her lately, but tears have been the answer; and I asked what had come to her that she should cry for every trifle as if she were heart-broken.  With that, she fell into a burst of sobs, terrifying to see, and ran from the room.  I was thunderstruck.  I asked John what could be the matter with her, and he said he could only think she was going crazed.”

John Massingbird nodded his head, as if in confirmation.  Old Matthew Frost spoke up, his voice trembling with the emotion that he was striving to keep under—­

“Did she say what it was that had come to her, ma’am?”

“She did not make any reply at all,” rejoined Mrs. Verner.  “But it is quite nonsense to suppose she could have fallen into that wild burst of grief simply at being joked about Luke.  I could not make her out.”

“And she has fallen into fretting, you say, ma’am, lately?” pursued Matthew Frost, leaning his venerable white head forward.

“Often and often,” replied Mrs. Verner.  “She has seemed quite an altered girl in the last few weeks!”

“My son’s wife has said the same,” cried old Matthew.  “She has said that Rachel was changed.  But I took it to mean in her looks—­that she had got thinner.  You mind the wife saying it, Robin?”

“Yes, I mind it,” shortly replied Robin, who had propped himself against the wall, his arms folded and his head bent.  “I’m a-minding all.”

“She wouldn’t eat a bit o’ supper,” went on old Matthew.  “But that was nothing,” he added; “she used to say she had plenty of food here, without eating ours.  She sat apart by the fire with one o’ the little uns in her lap.  She didn’t stay over long; she said the missus might be wanting her, and she left; and when she was kissing my poor old face, she began sobbing.  Robin offered to see her home—­”

“And she wouldn’t have it,” interrupted Robin, looking up for the first time with a wild expression of despair.  “She said she had things to get at Mother Duff’s, and should stop a bit there, a-gossiping.  It’ll be on my mind by day and by night, that if I’d went with her, harm couldn’t have come.”

“And that was how she left you,” pursued Mr. Verner.  “You did not see her after that?  You know nothing further of her movements?”