Rushing frantically to and fro, he looked back into the graveyard and behind the long line of stone fence opposite that the night was fast blending with its other shadows, but Poppea was nowhere to be seen.
"She would ha' passed this way if she'd gone down home," said 'Lisha, now thoroughly startled at Hugh's drawn face and hurried words of what had happened. "I can see almost all the way down the other road, and she ain't on that. 'Tain't like she'd take to the hill-country this time o' night. Anyway, it isn't no use trying to track her; the ground's froze so hard it doesn't take a hoof print. Well, come to think of it, if that isn't darned queer! It was froze jest like this the night she was left at Gilbert's! Best come down to the centre and I'll drop this milk and borrer a buggy and you and me'll do some tall searchin'. It does look some as if the Lord had meant I was to be sort of trackin' of the little gall from the beginnin'. But mebbe it's jest because I'm a good deal round about and keep my eyes open.
"You'll best tell Gilbert, but make him stay to hum, and we'll do the searchin'. It's no fit night for his lame leg; jest say 'Lisha Potts's going on the trail and he'll trust me, and mention to Satiry that the coffee-pot on the back of the stove'll make a nice picture for us when we get back."
Meanwhile, the long-legged horses were making good time toward the village, and presently, as Hugh entered the post-office, he could see Oliver Gilbert's face looking anxiously up the road through the window by the beehive, for the Binks boy had already come for the mail-bag.
"Where's Poppy? Has anything happened? Don't say she's fell through the ice and drowned!" Gilbert said almost in a whisper.
"No, no, she's safe enough," and Hugh paused, realizing that even these words might not be true.
"Sit down, Daddy" (Hugh had fallen into using Poppea's epithets). "I must tell you something."
Hugh told all as it had happened, repeating Poppea's broken sentences word for word with unconscious emphasis and pathos. Then, after giving 'Lisha's message, he stopped short and, still standing, looked at the old man, who was sitting motionless.
Gilbert arose with difficulty, steadying himself by the table corner. "Go, Hugh, and do you and 'Lisha do the best you can. She—she came to me in the night, and in the darkness she has gone from me," and hiding his face in his arm he left the office and, stumbling across the passage to the house, passed through the kitchen and entered his bedroom, where he closed and locked the door.
Hugh followed to say a few words to Satira, and remind her of the deserted post-office. She, overcoming her desire to set forth the fulfilment of her prediction in all its details, sat down suddenly in the rocker, head between her hands, until the honest tears spattered both on the floor and on the coat of old Mack, who, gray and rheumatic, still kept the place, half under the stove, that he had first chosen almost thirteen years before.