Not at all abashed the young man restored the coin to his pocket, laughed, and strode on.
The woodman walked back a few yards, then stopped, and looked after the stalwart figure until it deepened in the gloom, a thoughtful, puzzled expression upon his face, as if he were trying to call up some recollection.
With a shake of his head, denoting failure, he made his way to the cottage, unlocked it and entered.
The door opened into what appeared to be the living room. It was small and plainly furnished, after the manner of a woodman's hut, and yet, after a moment's glance, a stranger would have noticed a subtle air of refinement in common with better habitations.
The table and chairs were of plain deal, the walls were of pine, stained and varnished, but there was a good thick carpet on the floor, and on one side of the room hung a bookcase filled with well-bound volumes.
Beside the table, on which was spread the supper, stood a chair, more luxurious than its fellows, and covered with a pretty chintz. The knife and fork laid opposite this chair was of a better quality than the others on the table; and beside the knife and fork lay a white napkin and a daintily engraved glass; the other drinking vessels on the table were of common delf. As the woodman entered, a woman, who was kneeling at a fire in an adjoining room, looked round through the doorway.
"Una? Isn't she with you? I heard voices. Who was it?"
"Where is Una?" he said, ignoring her question.
"In the clearing, I suppose," said the woman. "She went out a few minutes ago. I thought she went to meet you?"
The man opened the door and called the dog, who had been wandering round the room in an uneasy fashion.
Then he came and stood by the fire thoughtfully.
"No," he said, "it was not Una. I wish she wouldn't leave the cot after dusk."
"Why not? What's the fear? What has happened? Who was that I heard with you?"
"A stranger," he said, "a young gentleman lost his way. How long has she been gone?"
"Not ten minutes. A young gentleman. Think of that! How came he here?"
"Lost his way. He followed me through the Chase. He has gone on to Arkdale."
"Lost his way," repeated the woman. "Poor fellow! Five miles it is to Arkdale! A gentleman! A gentleman, did thee say?"