He arose, and stepped forward into the broad moonlight.
The woman gave a short gasp and came to a halt, shrinking back against the hedge.

Something in her outline struck sharply on Sam's sense, though with a flash of doubt and wonder.

She carried a small handbag, and wore a thick veil over her face.
"Who are you ?" he asked gently.

"Don't be afraid." The woman made no answer--only cowered more closely against the hedge; and he heard her breath coming hard and fast.

Once more--and for the third time that night--Sam pulled the slide of his lantern.
"_Mother!_" "Oh! Sam, Sam, don't betray me! I'll go back--indeed I'll go back!" "In Heaven's name, mother, what are you doing here ?" The retort was obvious, but Mrs.Buzza merely cried-- "Dear Sam, have pity on me, and take me back! I'll go quietly--quite quietly." The idea of his mother (who weighed eighteen stone if an ounce) resisting with kicks and struggles might have caused Sam some amusement, but his brain was overcrowded already.
"It's a judgment," she went on incoherently, wringing her hands; "and I thought I had planned it so cleverly.