"Yes, yes. I suppose so. It's rather dark, however, for me to see as I would like. Isn't there a lamp here?"
"Lamp, is it? Askin' pardon for forgettin' me manners, but it's never a lamp will the master have left in this place. If one comes, indeed, 'tis himself brings it. Forby, on occasion like this, I'll fetch it an' take all the blame for that same. It's below. I'll step down;" and she departed hastily, leaving him alone.
CHAPTER IV.
HALLAM.
As the stage from the railway station rolled up to Fairacres, Amy was waiting upon the wide porch. She had put on her daintiest frock, white, of course, since her father liked her to wear no other sort of dress; and she had twisted sprays of scarlet woodbine through her dark hair and about her shoulders. Before the vehicle stopped, she called out eagerly:—
"Oh! how glad I am you're here! It's been such a long two days! Are you all well? Is everything right, mother dearest? Did you have a nice time?"
The father reached her first, remarking, with a fond smile:—
"You make a sweet picture, daughter, with that open doorway behind you, with the firelight and candlelight, and—Ah! did you speak, Salome?" turning toward his wife.