How fresh and fair the young face looked, tinged, as it was at this moment, too, with a conscious blush! Rotha had tried to lift her eyes as Willy entered.

She intended to meet his glance with a smile.

She wished to catch the significance of his expression.

But the lids were heavier than lead that kept her gaze fixed on the "rock" and flax below her.
She felt that after a step or two he had stood still in front of her.
She knew that her face was crimson.

Her eyes, too, were growing dim.
"Rotha, my darling!" She heard no more.
The spinning-wheel had been pushed hastily aside.