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of those sudden impulses of misty warmth that surprise the Glebeshire frosts。 The long stretch of the moor was enwrapped by a thin silver network of haze； the warmth of the sun； seen so dimly that it was like a shadow reflected in a mirror； struck to the very heart of the soil。 Where but yesterday there had been iron frost there was now soft yielding earth； it was as though the heat of the central fires of the world pressed dimly upward through many miles of heavy weighted resistance； straining to the light and air。 Larks； lost in golden mist； circled in space； Maggie could feel upon her face and neck and hands the warm moisture； the soil under her feet； now hard； now soft； seemed to tremble with some happy anticipation； the moor； wrapped in its misty colour； had no bounds； the world was limitless space with hidden streams； hidden suns。
The moor had a pathetic attraction for her； because not very long ago a man and a woman had been lost； only a few steps from Borhedden Farm； in the mistlost their way and been frozen during the night。 Poor things！ lovers； perhaps； they had been。
Maggie felt that here she could walk for miles and miles and that there was nothing to stop her； the clang of a gate； a house； a wall； a human voice was intolerable to her。
Her first thought as she went forward was disgust at her own weakness； once again she had been betrayed by her feelings。 She could remember no single time when they had not betrayed her。 She recalled now with an intolerable self…contempt her thoughts of her father at the time of the funeral and the hours that followed。 It seemed to her now that she had only softened towards his memory because she had believed that he had left her moneyand now； when she saw that he had treated her contemptuously； she found him once again the cruel； mean figure that she had before thought him。
For that she most bitterly； with an intensity that only her loneliness could have given her； despised herself。 And yet something else in her knew that that reproach was not a true one。 She had really softened towards him only because she had felt that she had behaved badly towards him； and the discovery now that he had behaved badly towards her did not alter her own original behaviour。 She did not analyse all this； she only knew that there were in her longings for affection； a desire to be loved； an aching for companionship； and that these things must always be kept down； fast hidden within her。 She realised her loneliness now with a fierce； proud； almost exultant independence。 No more tears； no more leaning upon others； no more expecting anything from anybody。 She was not dramatic in her new independence； she did not cry defiance to the golden mist or the larks or the hidden sun； she only walked on and on； stumping forward in her clumsy boots； her eyes hard and unseeing； her hands clasped behind her back。
Her expectation of happiness in her opening life that had been so strong with her that other day when she had looked down upon Polchester was gone。 She expected nothing； she wanted nothing。 Her only thought was that she would never yield to any one； never care for any one； never give to any one the opportunity of touching her。 At moments through the mist came the figure of the cook； stout； florid； triumphant。 Maggie regarded her contemptuously。 〃You cannot touch me；〃 she thought。 Of her father she would never think again。 With both hands she flung all her memories of him into the mist to be lost for ever 。 。 。
She came suddenly upon a lonely farm…house。 She knew the place； Borhedden； it had often been a favourite walk of hers from the Vicarage to Borhedden。 The farmer let rooms there and； because the house was very old； some of the rooms were fine； with high ceilings； thick stone walls； and even some good panelling。 The view too was superb； across to the Broads and the Molecatcher； or back to the Dreot Woods； or to the dim towers of Polchester Cathedral。 The air here was fineone of the healthiest spots in Glebeshire。
The farm to…day was transfigured by the misty glow； cows and horses could be faintly seen； ricks burnt with a dim fire。 Somewhere dripping water falling on to stone gave a vocal spirit to the obscurity。 The warm air seemed to radiate about the house like a flame that is obscured by sunlight。
The stealthy movements of the animals； the dripping of the water； were the only sounds。 To Maggie the house seemed to say something； something comforting and reassuring。
Standing there； she registered her vow that through all her life she would care for no one。 No one should touch her。
Had there been an observer he might have found some food for his irony in the contemplation of that small； insignificant figure so ignorant of life and so defiant of it。 He would have found perhaps something pathetic also。 Maggie thought neither of irony nor of pathos； but turned homewards with her mouth set； her eyes grave； her heart controlled。
As she walked back the sun broke through the mist； and； turning； she could see Borhedden like a house on fire； its windows blazing against the sky。
It was natural that her aunt should wish to return to London as soon as possible。 For one thing； Ellen the cook had packed her clothes and retired to some place in the village； there to await the departure of the defeated family。 Then the house was not only unpleasant by reason of its atmosphere and associations； but there were also the definite discomforts of roofs through which the rain dripped and floors that swayed beneath one's tread。 Moreover； Aunt Elizabeth did not care to be left alone in the London house。
Uncle Mathew left on the day after the funeral。 He had one little last conversation with Maggie。
〃I hope you'll be happy in London；〃 he said。
〃I hope so；〃 said Maggie。
〃I know you'll do what you can to help your aunts。〃 Then he went on more nervously。 〃Think of me sometimes。 I shan't be able to come and see you very often； you knowtoo busy。 But I shall like to know that you're thinking about me。〃
Maggie's new…found resolution taken so defiantly upon the moor was suddenly severely tested。 She felt as though her uncle were leaving her to a world of enemies。 She drove down her sense of desolation； and he saw nothing but her quiet composure。
〃Of course I'll think of you；〃 she answered。 〃And you must come often。〃
〃They don't like me；〃 he said； nodding his head towards where Aunt Anne might be supposed to be waiting。 〃It's not my fault altogether… …but they have severe ideas。 It's religion； of course。〃
She suddenly seemed to see in his eyes some terror or despair； as though he knew that he was going to drop 〃this time〃farther than ever before。
She caught his arm。 〃Uncle Mathew； what are you going to do？ Where will you live？ Take my three hundred pounds if it will help you。 I don't want it just now。 Keep it for me。〃
He had a moment of resolute； clear…sighted honesty。 〃No； my dear； if I had it it would go in a week。 I can't keep money； I never could。 I'm really better without any。 I'm all right。 You'll never get rid of medon't you fear。 We've got more in common than you think； although you're a good girl and I've gone to pieces a bit。 All the same there's plenty worse than me。 Your aunt； for all her religion； is damned difficult for a plain man to get along with。 Most people would find me better company； after all。 One last word； Maggie。〃
He bent down and whispered to her。 〃Don't you go getting caught by that sweep who runs their chapel up in London。 He's a humbug if ever there was oneyou mark my words。 I know a thing or two。 He's done your aunts a lot of harm； and he'll have his dirty fingers on you if you let him。〃
So he departed； his last kiss mingled with the usual aroma of whisky and tobacco； his last attitude； as he turned away； that strange confusion of assumed dignity and natural genial stupidity that was so especially his。
Maggie turned； with all her new defiant resolution； to face the world alone with her Aunt Anne。 Throughout the next day she was busied with collecting her few possessions； with her farewells to the one or two people in the village who had been kind to her； and with little sudden； almost surreptitious visits to corners of the house； the garden； the wood where she had at one time or another been happy。
As the evening fell and a sudden storm of rain leapt up from beneath the hill and danced about the house； she had a wild longing to stay… …to stay at any cost and in any discomfort。 London had no longer interest； but only terror and dismay。 She ran out into the dark and rain…drenched garden； felt her way to an old and battered seat that had seen in older days dolls' tea…parties and the ravages of bad… temper； stared from it across the kitchen…garden to the lights of the village； that seemed to rock and shiver in the wind and rain。
She stared passionately at the lights； her heart beating as though it would suffocate her。 At last； her clothes soaked with the storm； her hair dripping； she returned to the house。 Her aunt was in the hall。
〃My dear Maggie； where have you been？〃 in a voice that was kind but aghast。
〃In the garden；〃 said Maggie； hating her aunt。
〃But it's pouring with rain！ You're soaking！ You must change at once！ Did you go out t