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"That boy is yours, my lord," said Sir Robert Knowles, "let who will be the mother!"

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Robert bit off the end of his pencil, which his father,[Pg 160] who was looking the other way, luckily did not see. The boy crouched over the fire, trying to hide his trembling, and longing yet not daring to ask a hundred questions. He was glad and at the same time sorry when Reuben having explained to him the right and the wrong way of sowing beans, and enlarged on the wickedness of Radicals in general and Gladstone in particular, returned to Bardon's loss.She drew back from him with a shudder."Then may luck attend you," answered the galleyman, grasping his hand; "I thought it was you, and I came, not alone, for I have helpmates yonder totodo, what I thought would be a good turn for youto bury your mother."
  • THREE:"You'll git used to her, lad."
  • THREE:"Wot does a liddle thing lik that count when it's all so miserable?"
  • THREE:
  • THREE:Robert was first of all part of a cluster which included young Coalbran from Doozes, Tom Sheane from Dinglesden, the two Morfees from Edzell, Emily Ditch, and Bessie Lamb from Eggs Hole. Then in time the company reduced itself to Robert, Emily, and Bessieand one wonderful night he found himself with Bessie alone. How they had chosen each other he could not say. All he knew was that for sometime she had become woven with the music into his thoughts. She[Pg 142] was a poor labourer's daughter, living in a crumbled, rickety cottage on Eggs Hole Farm, helping her mother look after eight young children. She was only seventeen herself, sturdy yet soft, with a mass of hay-coloured hair, and rather a broad face with wistful eyes. Robert thought she was beautifulbut Robert thought that old Spodgram's playing and the choir's singing were beautiful.
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FORE:So they went and broke their news to Reuben. They were careful and consideratebut he was knocked out by the blow.

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FORE:Chapter 12Sometimes he would be more interested, and, in a fit of reaction from his proud loneliness, turn to her as of old for comfort. But those were the bitterest hours of all, for in them he would glimpse a difference, an aloofness. She had been much quieter since the birth of the second boy, she had not recovered her health so rapidly, and her eyes were big in the midst of bistred rings. She had given up flirting with Handshut, or with the young men from Rye, but she did not turn from them to her husband. Though he could see she was sorry for him, he feltvaguely, uncertainly, yet tormentinglythat she was not all his, as she had been in brighter months. Sometimes he did not much caresometimes a dreadful passion would consume him, and once he caught her to his breast and bruised her in his arms, crying"I w?an't lose youI w?an't lose you too."

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"Is the room ready, Bridget?" he abruptly asked his wife.Neither of them slept that night. Albert was half delirious, and obsessed by the thought of hell. The room looked out on Boarzell, and he became convinced that the swart, tufted mass outlined against the sprinkled stars was hell, the country of the lost. He pictured himself wandering over and over it in torment. He said he saw fire on it, scaring the superstitious Pete out of his life.
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