now it must be
painful to you, Mother. But while there is tyranny in this land, to
laborers, women, animals, anything weak and helpless, so long will there
be rebellion against it, and things will happen that will disturb you."

Again Nedda saw her father wince. But Frances Freeland, bending forward,
fixed her eyes piercingly on Kirsteen's neck, as if she were noticing
something there more important than that about tyranny!

Then John said very gravely:

"You seem to think that we approve of such things being done to the
helpless!"

"I know that you disapprove."

"With the masterly inactivity," Felix said suddenly, in a voice more
bitter than Nedda had ever heard from him, "of authority, money, culture,
and philosophy. With the disapproval that lifts no finger--winking at
tyrannies lest worse befall us. Yes, WE--brethren--we--and so we shall
go on doing. Quite right, Kirsteen!"

"No. The world is changing, Felix, changing!"

But Nedda had started up. There at the door was Derek.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

Derek, who had slept the sleep of the dead, having had none for two
nights, woke thinking of Nedda hovering above him in the dark; of her
face laid down beside him on the pillow. And then, suddenly, up started
that thing, and stood there, haunting him! Why did it come? What did it
want of him? After writing the little note to Nedda, he hurried to the
station and found a train about to start. To see and talk with the
laborers; to do something, anything to prove that this tragic companion
had no real existence! He went first to the Gaunts' cottage. The door,
there, was opened by the rogue-girl, comely and robust as ever, in a
linen frock, with her sleeves rolled up, and smiling broadly at his
astonishment.

"Don't be afraid, Mr. Derek; I'm only here for the week-end, just to
tiddy up a bit. 'Tis all right in London. I wouldn't come back here, I
wouldn't--not if you was to give me--" and she pouted her red lips.

"Where's your father, Wilmet?"

"Over in Willey's Copse cuttin' stakes. I hear you've been ill, Mr.
Derek. You do look pale. Were you very bad?" And her eyes opened as
though the very thought of illness was difficult for her to grasp. "I
saw your young lady up in London. She's very pretty. Wish you happiness,
Mr. Derek. Grandfather, here's Mr. Derek!"

The face of old Gaunt, carved, cynical, yellow, appeared above her
shoulder. There he stood, silent, giving Derek no greeting.