"But you must be hungry and cold. Won't you come and have some food?"
"No, and thank you kindly. I am lodging at Hillcrest village, a matter of only two miles from here, and I'd best be getting back. But don't you worry about me, miss. I'm a rough man, but, thank God, I've been able to keep straight and honest. I'm in a tight place just now, but I'm sorry you should have found me as you did."
"I was once very miserable here in this same place," said Marjory shyly, "and then something happened which made my whole life different. Perhaps it will be the same with you."
"I'm afraid not; but I mustn't keep you here in the cold. Thank you kindly, miss, for what you've done for a stranger. May I ask you not to mention having seen me here? I have a good reason."
Marjory could no longer feel suspicious of the man, but at the same time she could not help wondering why he should wish to keep his movements secret.
"Very well; I won't speak of it," she promised, wondering if she were right in so doing.
"God bless you, miss, and good-night to you."
The man strode away. She could hear his footsteps crackling through the undergrowth as she turned back towards home. Suddenly she was aware of approaching steps; in a moment the wood seemed full of dark figures, and she could hear men's heavy breathing. She started to run, but before she could reach the gate strong arms caught hold of her, a lantern flashed into her face, and the voice of Mr. Forester cried, "Hallo, Marjory! what are you doing here?"
"She doeth little kindnesses Which most leave undone, or despise; For naught that sets one heart at ease, And giveth happiness or peace, Is low esteemed in her eyes."
Marjory had not thought of the possibility of the search-party being so near, and Mr. Forester's sudden appearance quite bewildered her for a moment. The men came crowding up, looking curiously at her.
She tried to free herself from Mr. Forester's grasp.
"No, you don't, my lady," said he, laughing, and tightening his hold upon her arm. "Having found you, I am responsible for you; besides, I don't approve of girls wandering about in the dark like this without giving an account of themselves."
"I'm not accountable to you, anyway," replied Marjory, her temper rising.