A Shadowed Love by Fred M. White

-"I shall wake up presently and find it is all a dream," Molly said, with her face turned to the blue sky. "Dick, to think that a week should make all the difference to our fortunes! Already Pant-street has become a vague memory."

Dick was lying on his back on a patch of purple heather and listening to the hum of the bees. The air was crisp and pure. Down below lay the valley with its golden patches of cornland. In a belt or trees Stanmere nestled. High up were the great woods and the stretches of heather, and behind again a desolate land of ravine and rock and bog and larch, where no man ventured after dark unless he was born to the soil. But Dick had had the benefit of twenty years' personal acquaintance with the place, and it was no idle boast of his that he could find his way over the moor blindfold.