She, too, had heard the sound, and their eyes met.

The terror in hers told him that he had discovered the truth.
'He's there,' he whispered.
Christina staggered back, supporting herself against the wall, and fell into a seat under the window, the light from which streamed upon her fair hair and illumined her as she sat, crushed by her misery into an attitude of profound despair, her head bowed upon her breast, her clasped hands thrust out rigidly be yond her knees.
Harry stood silent and motionless, his eyes fixed upon the grief-stricken figure of the girl, his brain in a tumult.

His heart was driving him to forget everything but that he loved her, to take her in his arms and swear to shield her and cherish her, come what might.

At this moment Sergeant Monk came from the house.
'Not a sign of him,' he said.

'Did you see any thing of him, Hardy?
'Not a glimpse,' answered Harry mechanically.
'Did you go inside ?' 'No; Miss Shine refused admittance.' 'Why are you here, miss ?' asked Monk, turning sharply to Christina.
'I am here because it is my home,' she answered unsteadily.
'But don't you live with the Summers family ?' 'People may not care to shelter the daughter of--of one suspected of robbery and almost murder.' The girl's head sank lower still and a convulsive sob shook her frame; but she controlled herself with a brave effort of will and sat immovable.
Monk's horse was nosing in the bucket under the tap of the tank, and Harry stooped and turned the tap.