CHAPTER XLVIII. “OUT, OUT, BRIEF CANDLE.”
As the clock struck eight Rotha drew her shawls about her shoulders and hurried up the road.
At the turning of the lonnin to Shoulthwaite she met Willy Ray. “I was coming to meet you,” he said, approaching.
“Come no closer,” said Rotha, thrusting out the palm of one hand; “you know where I've been—there, that is near enough.”
“Nonsense, Rotha!” said Willy, stepping up to her and putting a hand on her arm. There was confidence in the touch.
“To-morrow is the day,” Willy added, in an altered tone. “I am leaving for Carlisle at noon—that is, in four hours.”
“Could you not wait four hours longer?” said Rotha.
“I could if you wish it; but why?”
“I don't know—that is, I can't say—but wait until four o'clock, I beg of you.”