I always waited. It must have
been they. Only Francis ever built the bricks like that, with the red
ones in the middle. He always said they _must_ be...."
She broke off and then, with her hands pressed to her face, cried, so
softly and so gently that she made scarcely any sound.
Seymour left her.
V
He passed through the house without any one seeing him, crossed the
common, and went up to his bedroom at the inn. He sat down before his
window with his back to the room. He flung the rattling panes wide.
The room looked out across on to the moor, and he could see, in the
moonlight, the faint thread of the beginning of the Borhaze Road. To
the left of this there was some sharp point of light, some cottage
perhaps. It flashed at him as though it were trying to attract his
attention. The night was so magical, the world so wonderful, so without
bound or limit, that he was prepared now to wait, passively, for his
experience. That point of light was where the Scarecrow used to be, just
where the brown fields rise up against the horizon. In all his walks
to-day he had deliberately avoided that direction.
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