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"Off!where?"

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Richard began to take a new interest in his flockhitherto they had merely struck him as grotesque. Their pale silly eyes, their rough, tic-ridden fleeces, their scared repulsiveness after the dipping, their bewildered nakedness after the shearing, had filled him either with amusement or disgust; but now, when he saw them weakly lick the backs of their new-born lambs, while the lambs' little tails quivered, and tiny, entreating sounds came from their mouths, he found in them a new beauty, which he had found nowhere else in his short, hard lifethe beauty of an utterly loving, tender, and helpless thing.
ONE:She mounted on her master's boar,

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ONE:"I w?an't listen to you while you're lik that."The morning was just breaking; and the moon shone full and bright on the surrounding buildings, on the trees, on the tents that marked the lodgement of the leaders, and on the groups that lay tentless on the ground, buried in profound sleep. All within the boundary of the rude encampment were reposing in the confidence of power, without guard or centinel, save one, whose eye-lids closed not. Alone, in the corner of a tent, which stood in the centre of the encampment, sat Tyler, whom the moonbeams revealed, as they streamed through a rent in the canvass. His right hand clenched, and his elbow resting against the side of the tent, supported his head; and in his left he held a small gold crucifix, on which he was gazing, not with a countenance on which pity might be traced, but rather a look in which sorrow and despair seemed blended.

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ONE:

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Come Closer
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TWO:The foreman's face assumed a deeper hue than usual: he looked fiercely at the galleyman, but there was a determination in the weather-beaten face that made him pause ere he spoke. "Galleyman," he at length said, "you knew the business before you came: if you be so fond of saving old witches' lives, why didn't you say so, that I might not now be in this dilemma?"Manure was his great idea at that moment. He had carefully tilled and turned the soil, and he fed it with manure as one crams chickens. It was of poor quality marl, mostly lime on the high ground, with a larger proportion of clay beside the ditch. Reuben's plan was to fatten it well before he sowed his seed. Complaints of his night-soil came all the way from Grandturzel; Vennal, humorously inclined, sent him a bag of rotten fish; on the rare occasions his work allowed him to meet other farmers at the Cocks, his talk was all of lime, guano, and rape-cake, with digressions on the possibilities of seaweed. He was manure mad.
TWO:"I've known them unconscious longer than that. But, cheer up, ma'amwe're not going to let him slip past us."
TWO:
TWO:
TWO:Further on, in the secrecy of the tents and caravans, the dusk became full of cowering shapes, sometimes slipping and sliding about apart, sometimes blotted together ... there were whispers, rustlings, strugglings, low cries of "d?an't" and "adone do!"the sound of kisses ... kisses ... they followed Robert all the way to Meridiana's tent, where, standing in the brazier glow, and flushed besides with crimson of her own, stood Bessie.
TWO:"Well, if that's wot you think, the sooner you find out that you can help loving the better. Did I ever hear such weak womanish slop! Help loving? You'll help it before you're many days older. Meantime you kip away from that girl, and all them hemmed choir-singings which are the ruin of young people."
TWO:
TWO:
TWO:Reuben said nothing, in spite of the entreaty in Pete's honest eyes, but his heart warmed towards his son. Albert had shown at last proper spirit; he had no doubt realised his baseness, and acknowledged that he had been a fool and villain to betray Odiam. Now he saw how mightily the farm prospered in spite of adversity, he praised its greatness, and no man could praise Odiam without winning a little of Reuben's goodwill. He softened towards the prodigal, and felt that he would like to see the boyhe still called him "the boy," though he was thirty-sevenand if he behaved penitently and humbly, forgive him before he died.

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THREE:She smiled with that same bitter compassion, and stroked his head with her feeble hand.

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THREE:"We can go back by Corkwood across the marshes. It'll be quicker, and we shan't have no crowd spanneling round."

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THREE:

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THREE:

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ONE:"D?an't t?ake on lik that," said Reuben, "tell me wot you've come fur.""I wish you'd talk plain. If you never want anything, then you ?un't pr?aperly alive. So you ?un't happybecause you're dead."

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THREE:She had been a fool, and now she was paying the price of folly, which is always so much heavier than the price of sin. Here she was at twenty-five, prematurely old, exhausted, sick of life, and utterly alone. There[Pg 104] was no one to turn to in her wretchedness. Her neighbours were incapable of giving her real help or sympathy, Mrs. Backfield invariably took Reuben's part and resented the slightest criticism of him, old Gasson was hard and selfish, and not particularly interested in his daughter.
THREE:"My sweet," he murmured, holding her palm against his mouth, "my liddle creature, my liddle sweet. Git well, and you shan't never have to go through this ag?un. Six boys is all I'll want to help me, surelyeand you shall rest and be happy, liddle wife, and be proud of your children and the gurt things they're going to do."

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THREE:"No; he received his freedom from my father when a boy for some juvenile serviceI hardly remember what. Yet I shall never forget the look of the varletas if it mattered to such as he whether they were free or not! He stared for an instant at my fatherthe tears trembling in his eyes, and all the blood in his body, I verily believe, reddening his face, and he looked as if he would have said something; but my father and I did not care to listen, and we turned away. As for the land he has now received, I promised it him on the field of battle, and I could not retract my word."

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THREE:"You're a liar!" cried Reuben.So kiss us long, and kiss us well,

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THREE:Reuben was now alone at Odiamfor the first time. Of course Harry was with him still, but Harry did not count. There was an extraordinary vitality in him, none the less; it was as if the energies unused by his brain were diverted to keep together his crumbled body. He grew more shrivelled, more ape-like every day, and yet he persisted in life. He still scraped at his fiddle, and would often sit for hours at a time mumbling"Only a poor old mana poor old manold manold man," over and over again, sometimes with a[Pg 413] sudden shrill cry of "Salvation's got me!" or "Another wedding!we're always having weddings in this house." His brother avoided him, and did his best to ignore himhe was the scar of an old wound.

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"Oh, ?un't there!"There was no need to repeat the orderthe door was smashed to splinters, and, in the rush to get at the cellars, several were thrown down, and trampled on. A large can, filled with wine, was handed to Tyler, and another to the galleyman, who, each quaffing a long draught, permitted the like indulgence to their followers; and then the word to march on was shouted by the chief. But now the smith perceived evidence of the folly he had been guilty of: the wine was too tempting to be left so soonthe vintner's house rang with execrations and tumultand even among those who kept their station in the street, the dangerous liquid continued to circulate."Funny how he never seems to think of anything but Odiam."Holgrave's mind was relieved as Margaret spoke, for he had confidence in her truth. He knew, however, that Calverley stood high in the favour of De Boteler, and he determined not to trust himself with further words."Does your son find his farm answer, dame?"Wells paused a moment, and then addedThe tenth evening after this exploit closed in heavily, and the wind blew chill and gusty, loaded with drizzling rain. Oakley felt little inconvenience from the night as, wrapped in a large cloak, and with an unusually broad-brimmed hat, he cautiously approached the low-roofed dwelling of Holgrave, in the forest of Dean. He had little difficulty in distinguishing it, Harvey having a few days previously, though without the least intimation of the reason, watched Holgrave from the foundry to his home. The blaze of a bright wood fire was streaming through the casement. Black Jack stept near enough to obtain a view of the interior, in order to assure himself that he was not mistaken, although, from the description he had received, he had little doubt; and a single glance convinced him it was the dwelling he sought. Holgrave was lying along a bench in the opposite chimney corner, his right elbow resting on the form, and his right cheek reposing on the upraised palm. He was looking with a smile at Margaret, who was sitting with her back to the window, and, by the motion of her right hand, was apparently engaged in sewing. The gazer conjectured that Holgrave had been asking her to sing, for, as he stood, she commenced a strain of such sweet and touching melody, that even Oakley (who, spite of his being so admirably "fit for treason," had "music in his soul,") listened with such breathless attention that one would have been tempted to conclude he might "be trusted." The ballad concluded, and Oakley still looked on, until Holgrave, after a few moments of apparently cheerful conversation, arose from the bench, in all probability with the intention of preparing for rest.
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