For a moment or two he still stood looking upward; afterwards, he bade farewell again to Lois.
And Lois, answering in the words she knew would please him best, said to him, 'Go in peace.'
She was glad that he left her with a smile—glad of the blessing he called down upon her head.
Watching him as he went away steadily, with his face turned towards the sun-rising, it seemed to Lois as if a rose-tinted morning cloud went with him and overshadowed him.
On the evening of the following day Roger's father rode up to the farm-house.
He brought tidings of wild weather out upon the moors, and told how he and his good horse had been more than once all but buried in a snow-drift.
'I should not have cared to come across on such a tempestuous day,' he added, 'only I want an answer, Roger, to my question.'
'But you got my answer, surely,' said Roger, quickly; 'Wandering Willie carried it to you yesterday.'
His father shook his head. 'Wandering Willie has not been nigh our place,' he said, in a marked, grave tone.
All looked at each other, but no one spoke, only Lois gave a low cry, 'Oh Willie, poor Willie!'