142 WYLDER'S HAJVD.
with a haunting melody the deserted glen, wherein the
birds had ended their vesper songs and gone to rest.
A step was heard at the threshold — it entered the
hall; the door of the little chamber opened, and Stanley
Lake entered, saying in a doubtful, almost timid way —
"It is I, Radie, come to thank you, and just to ask
you how you do, and to say I'll never forget your kind-
ness; upon my honor, I never can."
Rachel shuddered as the door opened, and there was a
ghastly sort of expectation in her look. Imperfectly as
it was seen, he could understand it. She did not bid him
welcome or even speak. There was a silence.
"Now, you're not angry with me, Radie dear; I ven-
ture to say I suffer more than you: and how could I
have anticipated the strange turn things have taken?
You know how it all came about, and you must see I'm not
really to blame, at least in intention, for all this mis-
erable trouble. Come, Radie, let by-gones be by-gones.
There's a good girl; won't you?"
"Aye, by-gones are by-gones; the past is, indeed, im-
mutable, and the future is equally fixed, and more dread-
ful."
"Come, Radie; a clever girl like you can make your
own future."
"And what do you want of me now?" she asked, with
a fierce cold stare.
"But I did not say I wanted anything."
"Of course you do, or I should not have seen you.
Mark me though, I'll go no further in the long route of
wickedness you seem to have marked out for me. I'm
sacrificed, it is true, but I won't renew my hourly hor-
rors, and live under the rule of your diabolical selfish-
ness."
"I don't know really, Radie, why you should talk as