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"Did I hear you …" began McClintock. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. “You are late,” she murmured. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. Her personal maidservant, the first she had ever had in her life, was joyful for her. ‘But do you not see that he will come again? I think it is better if you, both of you, go and leave me here to find—’ She broke off, looking away. " "Go, Sir," rejoined the knight, haughtily. But then the features changed.
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