house, for the August weather was so hot that every door and
window was kept constantly open, and the least sound outside penetrated
all through. I am sure the cocks and hens had a sad time of it; for
Betty drove them all into an empty barn, and kept them fastened up in
the dark for several days, with very little effect as regarded their
crowing and clacking. At length came a sleep which was the crisis, and
from which she wakened up with a new faint life. Her slumber had lasted
many, many hours. We scarcely dared to breathe or move during the time;
we had striven to hope so long, that we were sick at heart, and durst
not trust in the favourable signs: the even breathing, the moistened
skin, the slight return of delicate colour into the pale, wan lips. I
recollect stealing out that evening in the dusk, and wandering down the
grassy lane, under the shadow of the over-arching elms to the little
bridge at the foot of the hill, where the lane to the Hope Farm joined
another road to Hornby. On the low parapet of that bridge I found
Timothy Cooper, the stupid, half-witted labourer, sitting, idly
throwing bits of mortar into the brook below. He just looked up at me
as I came near, but gave me no greeting either by word or gesture. He
had generally made some sign' of recognition to me, but this time I
thought he was sullen at being dismissed. Nevertheless I felt as if it
would be a relief to talk a little to some one, and I sate down by him.
While I was thinking how to begin, he yawned weariedly.

'You are tired, Tim?' said I.

'Ay,' said he. 'But I reckon I may go home now.' 'Have you been sitting
here long?'

'Welly all day long. Leastways sin' seven i' th' morning.' 'Why, what
in the world have you been doing?' 'Nought.'

'Why have you been sitting here, then?'

'T' keep carts off.' He was up now, stretching himself, and shaking his
lubberly limbs.

'Carts! what carts?'

'Carts as might ha' wakened yon wench! It's Hornby market day. I reckon
yo're no better nor a half-wit yoursel'.' He cocked his eye at me as if
he were gauging my intellect.

'And have you been sitting here all day to keep the lane quiet?'

'Ay. I've nought else to do. Th' minister has turned me adrift. Have
yo' heard how th' lass is faring to-night?'

'They hope she'll waken better for this long sleep. Good night to you,
and God bless you, Timothy,' said I.

He scarcely took any notice of my words, as he lumbered across a Stile
that led to his