e
involuntary thought in the Glebeshire "pagan mind" was to look for the
"evil eye." But Mrs. Bolitho herself had had a very recent example in
her own family of "possession." There had been her old grandfather,
living in the farm with them, as hale and hearty a human of sixty-five
years as you'd be likely to find in a day's march through Glebeshire.
"He lost touch with them," as Mrs. Bolitho put it. In a night his
colour failed him, his cheerful conversation left him, he could "do
nought but sit and stare out o' window." A month later he died.

Martin had not been long at Borhedden before she came to her
conclusions about him, told them to her James, and found that his slow
but sure brains had come to the same decision. In the sense of the
tragedy overhanging the poor young man she forgot to consider the
possible impropriety of his relations with Maggie. He was removed at
once from human laws and human judgment. He became "a creature of God"
and was surrounded with something of the care and reverence with which
the principal "softie" in the village was regarded.

It was not that Martin's behaviour was in any way odd. After a few days
in the utter peace and quiet of the moor and farm he screamed no more
at night. He was gentle and polite to every one, ate his meals, took
little walks out on to the moor and into the village, but liked best to
sit in front of the parlour window and look out on to the heath and
grass, watching the shadows and the sunlight and the driving sheets of
rain.

Mrs. Bolitho had a tender heart and Maggie shared in her superstitious
pity. Looking back to her youth she had always thought Maggie a "wisht
little thing." "Poor worm," what chance had she ever had with that
great scandalous chap of a father? She saw her still in her shabby
clothes trying to keep that dilapidated house together. No, what chance
had she ever had? She was still a "wisht little thing."

Nor did it need very shrewd eyes to see how desperately devoted Maggie
was to Martin. The sight of that touched the hearts of every human
being in the farm. Not that Maggie was foolish; she did not hang about
Martin all the time, she never, so far as Mrs. Bolitho could see,
kissed him or fondled him, or was with him when he did not want her.
She was not sentimental to him, not sighing nor groaning, nor pestering
him to answer romantic questions. On the contrary, she was always
cheerful, practical, and full of common sense, although she was