She started and looked strangely at him.
"Not death," she said in a tone of defiance, "not death until I have done my work."
"Tell us your name, good woman," the older man put in, not heeding her last remark.
"Name? I have no name now—outcast—jolle-if you like. But I will win my name back, I will—"
"Of course you will," sad one consolingly, looking at his companion and tapping his forehead knowingly.
"Come, we will begin right away; let us go now," and he raised himself up to start.
With a little coaxing and reassurance, they persuaded her to lean on them and rise up, but the poor little face became distorted and the eyes closed languidly as if she suffered intensely. She stood bravely up however, but in a moment she tottered and sank back again. Her companions saw that their efforts were useless in her present condition, so it was decided that while the elder man remained to watch her, the younger one should gallop to the village and secure the assistance necessary to transport her from this lonely spot.
Unfortunately the path chosen by Bijou on the night of her elopement with him, led to a succession of roads which wound almost interminably through woods and fields adjoining another village, situated some miles distant from the one they had left. This settlement was called "The Lower Farms." It was to this place that Philip Campbell and his uncle Douglas were travelling on that morning when they found Fifine in the wood. Bijou had made a very round-about trip, bringing the girl at least twenty miles from her own neighborhood, and leaving her in a spot where, if found, she would be looked upon as a resident of the Lower Farms.
With all possible speed, Philip Campbell rode into the village, going straight to the doctor of the place, to whom he confided their strange rencontre. Half an hour later, the zealous man of medicine with his attendant and Phil, were journeying back to the spot where Douglas Campbell kept kindly watch over the unfortunate female.