Once I tried to go back; but she turned and looked at me, and it was as if she had dragged me with ropes.  After that I followed her like a dog.  We came to the village, and she led me through it, past the church and the blacksmith’s shop, and down the lane to Mr. Ranford’s.  Mr. Ranford’s house stands close to the road:  a plain old-fashioned building, with a flagged path leading to the door between box-borders.  The lane was deserted, and as I turned into it, I saw Emma Saxon pause under the old elm by the gate.  And now another fear came over me.  I saw that we had reached the end of our journey, and that it was my turn to act.  All the way from Brympton I had been asking myself what she wanted of me, but I had followed in a trance, as it were, and not till I saw her stop at Mr. Ranford’s gate did my brain begin to clear itself.  It stood a little way off in the snow, my heart beating fit to strangle me, and my feet frozen to the ground; and she stood under the elm and watched me.

I knew well enough that she hadn’t led me there for nothing.  I felt there was something I ought to say or do—­but how was I to guess what it was?  I had never thought harm of my mistress and Mr. Ranford, but I was sure now that, from one cause or another, some dreadful thing hung over them. She knew what it was; she would tell me if she could; perhaps she would answer if I questioned her.

It turned me faint to think of speaking to her; but I plucked up heart and dragged myself across the few yards between us.  As I did so, I heard the house-door open, and saw Mr. Ranford approaching.  He looked handsome and cheerful, as my mistress had looked that morning, and at sight of him the blood began to flow again in my veins.

“Why, Hartley,” said he, “what’s the matter?  I saw you coming down the lane just now, and came out to see if you had taken root in the snow.”  He stopped and stared at me.  “What are you looking at?” he says.

I turned toward the elm as he spoke, and his eyes followed me; but there was no one there.  The lane was empty as far as the eye could reach.

A sense of helplessness came over me.  She was gone, and I had not been able to guess what she wanted.  Her last look had pierced me to the marrow; and yet it had not told me!  All at once, I felt more desolate than when she had stood there watching me.  It seemed as if she had left me all alone to carry the weight of the secret I couldn’t guess.  The snow went round me in great circles, and the ground fell away from me....

A drop of brandy and the warmth of Mr. Ranford’s fire soon brought me to, and I insisted on being driven back at once to Brympton.  It was nearly dark, and I was afraid my mistress might be wanting me.  I explained to Mr. Ranford that I had been out for a walk and had been taken with a fit of giddiness as I passed his gate.  This was true enough; yet I never felt more like a liar than when I said it.