"I fear me not. What dost thee think? Suppose I were to run for it?"
"Yes, do, Hester."
They went in, Hester closing the back door and locking it. She put on her shawl and bonnet, and was going out at the front door when the clock struck ten.
"It is ten o'clock, child," she said to Anna. "Thee go to bed. Thee needst not sit up. I'll take the latch-key with me and let myself in."
"Oh, Hester! I don't want to go to bed yet," returned Anna fretfully. "It is like a summer's evening."
"But thee hadst better, child," urged Hester. "Patience has been angry with me once or twice, saying I suffer thee to sit up late. A pretty budget she will be telling thy father on his return! Thee go to bed. Thy candle is ready here on the slab. Good night."
Hester departed, shutting fast the door, and carrying with her the latch-key. Anna, fully convinced that friend Parry's forgetfulness, or the boy's, must have been designed as a special favour to herself, went softly into the best parlour to take the book out of her pretty work-table.
But the room was dark, and Anna could not find her keys. She believed she had left her keys on the top of this very work-table; but feel as she would she could not place her hands upon them. With a word of impatience, lest, with all her hurry, Herbert Dare should be gone before she could return to him with the book, she went to the kitchen, lighted the chamber candle spoken of by Hester as placed ready for her use, and carried it into the parlour.
Her keys were found on the mantel-piece. She unlocked the drawer, took from it the book, blew out the candle, and ran through the garden to the field.
Another minute, and Herbert would have left. He was turning away. In truth, he had not in the least expected to see Anna back again. "Then you have been able to come!" he exclaimed, in his surprise.