It was Faith. David heard, and came quickly after her. As he took her arm
gently, his eyes met those of Hylda. She rose and came out also.
"Will thee take her home?" he said huskily. "I can bear no more."
Hylda placed her arm round Faith, and led her out under the trees and
into the wood. As they went, Faith looked back.
"Oh, forgive me, forgive me, Davy," she said softly.
Three lights burned in Hamley: one in the Red Mansion, one in the
Cloistered House, and one in Soolsby's hut upon the hill. In the Red
Mansion old Luke Claridge, his face pale with feeling, his white hair
tumbling about, his head thrust forward, his eyes shining, sat listening,
as Faith read aloud letters which Benn Claridge had written from the East
many years before. One letter, written from Bagdad, he made her read
twice. The faded sheet had in it the glow and glamour of the East; it was
like a heart beating with life; emotion rose and fell in it like the
waves of the sea. Once the old man interrupted Faith.
"Davy--it is as though Davy spoke.
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