" Her son complied, and sat down upon the patch-work coverlet beside her. When he tried the scullery door, and would have moved on, Hilary intervened. He moved slightly, and she went on, with a slight catching of her breath: “It’s a bother and disturbance, but you see—” She had to go through with it now, because she could think of nothing but her preconceived words. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. ‘You’ll make shadows.
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