ister gone across the sea, my father in the churchyard.
I wandered about all night, with my heavy heart and distraught brain,
and at last they found me in the river. They may say I threw myself
in, but it is my belief I swooned away and fell in. I wouldn't swear,
though, for I remember nothing of it. What does it prove against me?"

"Not much, indeed, by itself. But they all say you were shut up with him
for hours."

"And that is true; ten hours, every day. He was at war with these
trades, and his own workmen had betrayed him. He knew I was as strong
as a man at some kinds of work--of course I can't strike blows, and hurt
people like a man--so he asked me, would I help him grind saws with his
machine on the sly--clandestinely, I mean. Well, I did, and very easy
work it was--child's play to me that had wrought on a farm. He gave me
six pounds a week for it. That's all the harm we did together; and, as
for what we said, let me tell you a first-rate workman, like poor Mr.
Henry, works very silently; that is where they beat us women. I am sure
we often ground a dozen saws, and not a word, except upon the business.
When we did talk, it was sure to be about you. Poor lad, the very last
time we wrought together, I mind he said, 'Well done, Jael, that's good
work; it brings me an inch nearer HER.' And I said, All the better,
and I'd give him another hour or two every day if he liked. That very
evening I took him his tea at seven o'clock. He was writing letters; one
was to you. He was just addressing it. 'Good-night, Jael,' said he. 'You
have been a good friend to her and me.'"

"Oh! did he say that? What became of that letter?"

"Upon my soul, he did; ay, and it was his last word to me in this world.
But you are not of his mind, it seems. The people in the factory! I know
they used to say we were sweethearts. You can't wonder at that; they
didn't know about you, nor any of our secrets; and, of course, vulgar
folk like them could not guess the sort of affection I had for poor Mr.
Henry; but a lady like you should not go by their lights. Besides, I was
always open with you. Once I had a different feeling for him: did I hide
it from you? When I found he loved you, I set to work to cure myself. I
did cure myself before your very eyes; and, after that, you ought to
be ashamed of yourself to go and doubt me. There, now, I have made her
cry."

Her own voice faltered a moment, and she said, with gentle dignity,
"Well, I forgive yo