r I conna--but so as I should na be so near
to--to th' hurt on it."

"I do not need another word," Mrs. Galloway answered. "If you had chosen
to keep it a secret, it would have been your own secret as long as you
chose that it should be so. There is nothing more you need? Very well
Good-night, my dear!"

CHAPTER XLIII - Liz Comes Back

"Miss," said Mrs. Thwaite, "it wur last neet, an' you mowt ha' knocked
me down wi' a feather, fur I seed her as plain as I see yo'."

"Then," said Anice, "she must be in Riggan now."

"Ay," the woman answered, "that she mun, though wheer, God knows, I
dunnot. It wur pretty late, yo' see, an' I wur gettin' th' mester's
supper ready, an' as I turns mysen fro' th' oven, wheer I had been
stoopin' down to look at th' bit o' bacon, I seed her face agen th'
winder, starin' in at me wild loike. Ay, it wur her sure enow, poor
wench! She wur loike death itsen--main different fro' th' bit o' a soft,
pretty, leet-headed lass she used to be."

"I will go and speak to Mr. Grace," Anice said.

The habit of referring to Grace was growing stronger every day. She met
him not many yards away, and before she spoke to him saw that he was not
ignorant of what she had to say.

"I think you know what I am going to tell you," she said.

"I think I do," was his reply.

The rumor had come to him from an acquaintance of the Maxys, and he had
made up his mind to go to them at once.

"Ay," said the mother, regarding them with rather resentful curiosity,
"she wur here this mornin'--Liz wur. She wur in a bad way enow--said
she'd been out on th' tramp fur nigh a week--seemit a bit out o' her
head. Th' mon had left her again, as she mowt ha' knowed he would. Ay,
lasses _is_ foo's. She'd ben i' th' Union, too, bad o' th' fever. I towd
her she'd better ha' stayed theer. She wanted to know wheer Joan Lowrie
wur, an' kept axin fur her till I wur tired o' hearin' her, and towd her
so."

"Did she ask about her little child?" said Anice.

"Ay, I think she did, if I remember reet. She said summat about wantin'
to know wheer we'd put it, an' if Joan wur dead, too. But it did na seem
to be th' choild she cared about so much as Joan Lowrie."

"Did you tell her where we buried it?" Grace asked.

"Ay."

"Thank you. I will go to the church-yard," he said to Anice. "I may find
her there."

"Will you let me go too?" Anice asked.

He paused a moment

"I am afraid that it would be best that I should go alone.