Once only Kester ventured to speak to Sylvia on the subject of

Philip. She had followed her cousin to the field just in front of

their house, just outside the porch, to ask him some question she

dared not put in her mother's presence--(Bell, indeed, in her

anxiety, usually absorbed all the questions when Philip came)--and

stood, after Philip had bid her good-by, hardly thinking about him

at all, but looking unconsciously after him as he ascended the brow;

and at the top he had turned to take a last glance at the place his

love inhabited, and, seeing her, he had waved his hat in gratified

farewell. She, meanwhile, was roused from far other thoughts than of

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him, and of his now acknowledged love, by the motion against the

sky, and was turning back into the house when she heard Kester's low

hoarse call, and saw him standing at the shippen door.

'Come hither, wench,' said he, indignantly; 'is this a time for

courtin'?' 'Courting?' said she, drawing up her head, and looking back at him

with proud defiance.

'Ay, courtin'! what other mak' o' thing is't when thou's gazin'

after yon meddlesome chap, as if thou'd send thy eyes after him, and

he making marlocks back at thee? It's what we ca'ed courtin' i' my

young days anyhow. And it's noane a time for a wench to go courtin'

when her feyther's i' prison,' said he, with a consciousness as he

uttered these last words that he was cruel and unjust and going too

far, yet carried on to say them by his hot jealousy against Philip.

Sylvia continued looking at him without speaking: she was too much

offended for expression.

'Thou may glower an' thou may look, lass,' said he, 'but a'd thought

better on thee. It's like last week thy last sweetheart were

drowned; but thou's not one to waste time i' rememberin' them as is

gone--if, indeed, thou iver cared a button for yon Kinraid--if it

wasn't a make-believe.' Her lips were contracted and drawn up, showing her small glittering

teeth, which were scarcely apart as she breathed out-'Thou thinks so, does thou, that I've forgetten him? Thou'd better

have a care o' thy tongue.' Then, as if fearful that her self-command might give way, she turned

into the house; and going through the kitchen like a blind person,

she went up to her now unused chamber, and threw herself, face

downwards, flat on her bed, almost smothering herself.

Ever since Daniel's committal, the decay that had imperceptibly

begun in his wife's bodily and mental strength during her illness of

the previous winter, had been making quicker progress. She lost her

reticence of speech, and often talked to herself. She had not so

much forethought as of old; slight differences, it is true, but

which, with some others of the same description, gave foundation for

the homely expression which some now applied to Bell, 'She'll never

be t' same woman again.




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