The Lean Man and Janet had been riding slowly home while Wayne sat listening to the shepherds' gossip; and as they went up Barguest Lane Nicholas had bent toward his grand-daughter with more than his wonted tenderness.
"Janet, girl, 'tis good to know thou'rt safe again," he said. "What would Wildwater be without thee?"
She did not answer, but turned her head away a little; and so they rode on in silence until they reached the open moor. The old man shivered then, and glanced behind with the quick gesture she had learned to know.
"I had forgotten it," he muttered.—"Didst hear aught in the wind, Janet?"
"I heard a moor-bird calling, sir, and the rustle of dry heather-stalks."
"Naught else? No sound, say, of a hound baying down the lane?"
"There's a farm-dog barking at the moon; that is all."
He straightened in the saddle. "To be sure! When a fool is old, he's past praying for, eh, girl? Yet—is yond brown shadow going to fare to Wildwater with us?"
"So long as there's a moon to cast it, sir."
Another silence, while a mile of heath slipped underneath their hoofs.