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recognition of Michael Hurst！
She was convinced he was dead； but after a while she refused to
believe in her conviction。 She stripped off his wet outer…garments
with trembling； hurried hands。 She brought a blanket down from her
own bed； she made up the fire。 She swathed him in fresh； warm
wrappings； and laid him on the flags before the fire； sitting herself
at his head； and holding it in her lap； while she tenderly wiped his
loose； wet hair； curly still； although its colour had changed from
nut…brown to iron…gray since she had seen it last。 From time to time
she bent over the face afresh； sick； and fain to believe that the
flicker of the fire…light was some slight convulsive motion。 But the
dim； staring eyes struck chill to her heart。 At last she ceased her
delicate； busy cares： but she still held the head softly； as if
caressing it。 She thought over all the possibilities and chances in
the mingled yarn of their lives that might； by so slight a turn； have
ended far otherwise。 If her mother's cold had been early tended； so
that the responsibility as to her brother's weal or woe had not
fallen upon her； if the fever had not taken such rough； cruel hold on
Will； nay； if Mrs。 Gale； that hard； worldly sister； had not
accompanied him on his last visit to Yew Nookhis very last before
this fatal； stormy might； if she had heard his cry；cry uttered by
these pale； dead lips with such wild； despairing agony； not yet three
hours ago！O！ if she had but heard it sooner； he might have been
saved before that blind； false step had precipitated him down the
rock！ In going over this weary chain of unrealized possibilities；
Susan learnt the force of Peggy's words。 Life was short； looking
back upon it。 It seemed but yesterday since all the love of her
being had been poured out； and run to waste。 The intervening years
the long monotonous years that had turned her into an old woman
before her timewere but a dream。
The labourers coming in the dawn of the winter's day were surprised
to see the fire…light through the low kitchen…window。 They knocked；
and hearing a moaning answer； they entered； fearing that something
had befallen their mistress。 For all explanation they got these
words
〃It is Michael Hurst。 He was belated； and fell down the Raven's
Crag。 Where does Eleanor； his wife； live？〃
How Michael Hurst got to Yew Nook no one but Susan ever knew。 They
thought he had dragged himself there； with some sore internal bruise
sapping away his minuted life。 They could not have believed the
superhuman exertion which had first sought him out； and then dragged
him hither。 Only Susan knew of that。
She gave him into the charge of her servants； and went out and
saddled her horse。 Where the wind had drifted the snow on one side；
and the road was clear and bare； she rode； and rode fast； where the
soft； deceitful heaps were massed up； she dismounted and led her
steed； plunging in deep； with fierce energy； the pain at her heart
urging her onwards with a sharp； digging spur。
The gray； solemn； winter's noon was more night…like than the depth of
summer's night； dim…purple brooded the low skies over the white
earth； as Susan rode up to what had been Michael Hurst's abode while
living。 It was a small farm…house carelessly kept outside；
slatternly tended within。 The pretty Nelly Hebthwaite was pretty
still； her delicate face had never suffered from any long…enduring
feeling。 If anything； its expression was that of plaintive sorrow；
but the soft； light hair had scarcely a tinge of gray； the wood…rose
tint of complexion yet remained； if not so brilliant as in youth； the
straight nose； the small mouth were untouched by time。 Susan felt
the contrast even at that moment。 She knew that her own skin was
weather…beaten； furrowed； brown；that her teeth were gone； and her
hair gray and ragged。 And yet she was not two years older than
Nelly；she had not been； in youth； when she took account of these
things。 Nelly stood wondering at the strange…enough horse…woman； who
stopped and panted at the door； holding her horse's bridle； and
refusing to enter。
〃Where is Michael Hurst？〃 asked Susan； at last。
〃Well； I can't rightly say。 He should have been at home last night；
but he was off； seeing after a public…house to be let at Ulverstone；
for our farm does not answer； and we were thinking〃
〃He did not come home last night？〃 said Susan； cutting short the
story； and half…affirming； half…questioning； by way of letting in a
ray of the awful light before she let it full in； in its consuming
wrath。
〃No！ he'll be stopping somewhere out Ulverstone ways。 I'm sure we've
need of him at home； for I've no one but lile Tommy to help me tend
the beasts。 Things have not gone well with us； and we don't keep a
servant now。 But you're trembling all over； ma'am。 You'd better
come in； and take something warm； while your horse rests。 That's the
stable…door； to your left。〃
Susan took her horse there； loosened his girths； and rubbed him down
with a wisp of straw。 Then she hooked about her for hay； but the
place was bare of feed； and smelt damp and unused。 She went to the
house； thankful for the respite； and got some clap…bread； which she
mashed up in a pailful of lukewarm water。 Every moment was a
respite； and yet every moment made her dread the more the task that
lay before her。 It would be longer than she thought at first。 She
took the saddle off； and hung about her horse； which seemed； somehow；
more like a friend than anything else in the world。 She laid her
cheek against its neck； and rested there； before returning to the
house for the last time。
Eleanor had brought down one of her own gowns； which hung on a chair
against the fire； and had made her unknown visitor a cup of hot tea。
Susan could hardly bear all these little attentions： they choked
her； and yet she was so wet； so weak with fatigue and excitement；
that she could neither resist by voice or by action。 Two children
stood awkwardly about； puzzled at the scene； and even Eleanor began
to wish for some explanation of who her strange visitor was。
〃You've； maybe； heard him speaking of me？ I'm called Susan Dixon。〃
Nelly coloured； and avoided meeting Susan's eye。
〃I've heard other folk speak of you。 He never named your name。〃
This respect of silence came like balm to Susan： balm not felt or
heeded at the time it was applied； but very grateful in its effects
for all that。
〃He is at my house；〃 continued Susan； determined not to stop or
quaver in the operationthe pain which must be inflicted。
〃At your house？ Yew Nook？〃 questioned Eleanor； surprised。 〃How came
he there？〃half jealously。 〃Did he take shelter from the coming
storm？ Tell me；there is somethingtell me； woman！〃
〃He took no shelter。 Would to God he had！〃
〃O！ would to God！ would to God！〃 shrieked out Eleanor； learning all
from the woful import of those dreary