Doors were open behind her, leading through to Miss Henderson's chamber. She would hear her mistress if she stirred.
If she had known what she did not know—that Faith Gartney stood at this moment in that burning mill, looking forth despairingly on those bright waters and green fields that lay between it and this home of hers—that were so near her, she might discern each shining pebble and the separate grass blades in the scarlet light, yet so infinitely far, so gone from her forever—had she known all this, without knowing the help and hope that were coming—she would yet have said "How beautiful it would be to be like Miss Faith!"
She watched the fire till it began to deaden, and the glow paled out into the starlight.
By and by, up from the direction of the river road, she saw a chaise approaching. It was stopped at the corner, by the bar place. Two figures descended from it, and entered upon the field path through the stile.
One—yes—it was surely the minister! The other—a woman. Who?
Miss Faith!
Glory met them upon the doorstone.
Faith held her finger up.
"I was afraid of disturbing my aunt," said she.
"Take care of her, Glory," said her companion. "She has been in frightful danger."