one of the two men, imitating the
piece of industry in question.

"Deary me! What o'clock might that be?" asked the other.

"Well, as I say, I was just taking down my shutters, as it might be
so," imitating the gesture again. "I'd not sanded my floor, nor yet
swept out my shop; so it might have been eight, and it might have been
short of eight, and maybe it was somewhere between the three quarters
and the hour--that's as _I_ reckon it."

"Deary me! deary me!" responded the other shopkeeper, whose blood was
obviously curdling at the bare recital of these harrowing details.

Robbie walked on. Eight o'clock! Then he had been but two hours
late--two poor little hours!

Robbie reflected with vexation and bitterness on the many hours which
must have been wasted or ill spent since he left Wythburn on Sunday.
He begrudged the time that he had given to rest and sleep.

Well, well, it was all over now; and out of Carlisle, through the
Botcher-gate, and down the road up which he came, Robbie turned with
weary feet. The snow was thawing fast, and the meadows on every side
lay green in the sunshine. How full of grace they were! How cruel in
her very gladness Nature still seemed to be!

Never for an instant did Robbie lose the sense of a great calamity
hanging above him, but a sort of stupefaction was creeping over him
nevertheless. He busied himself with reflections on every minor
feature of the road. Had he marked this beech before, or that oak? Had
he seen this gate on his way into Carlisle, or passed through that
bar? A boy on the road was driving a herd of sheep before him. One
drift of the sheep was marked with a red cross, and the other drift
with a black patch. Robbie counted the two drifts of sheep one by one,
and wondered whose they were and where they were going.

Then he sat down to rest, and let his forehead drop on to the grass to
cool it. When he rose again the road seemed to swim around him. A farm
servant in a smock was leading two horses, and as he passed he bade
the wayfarer, "Good afternoon." Robbie went on without seeming to
hear, but when the man had got beyond the sound of his voice he turned
as if by sudden impulse, and, waving his hand with a gesture of
cordiality, he returned the salutation.

Then he sat down once more and held his head between his hands. It was
beating furiously, and his body, too, from head to foot, was changing
rapidly from hot to cold. At length the consciousness took possessi