ttle Janey? and I
would give mine to save his. But I do think it will be good for you,
Bill; times are bad, and it has been very hard for you lately in Varley.
I know all about it, and you will do better across the seas. You will
write, won't you, sometimes?"

"Never fear," Bill said huskily, "oi will wroite, Polly; goodby, and God
bless you all; but it mayn't be goodby, for oi mayn't foind him;" and,
wringing the hands of Luke and Polly, Bill returned to his cottage,
hastily packed up a few things in a kit, slung it over his shoulder on a
stick, and started out in search of Ned.

Late that evening there came a knock at the door of Luke's cottage. On
opening it he found Bill standing there.

"Back again, Bill!--then thou hasn't found him?"

"No," Bill replied in a dejected voice. "Oi ha' hoonted high and low vor
him; oi ha' been to every place on the moor wheer we ha' been together,
and wheer oi thowt as he might be a-waiting knowing as oi should set
out to look for him as soon as oi heard the news. Oi don't think he be
nowhere on the moor. Oi have been a-tramping ever sin' oi started this
mourning. Twice oi ha' been down Maarsten to see if so be as they've
took him, but nowt ain't been seen of him. Oi had just coom from there
now. Thou'st heerd, oi suppose, as the crowner's jury ha found as Foxey
wer murdered by him; but it bain't true, you know, Luke--be it?"

Bill made the assertions stoutly, but there was a tremulous eagerness in
the question which followed it; He was fagged and exhausted. His faith
in Ned was strong, but he had found the opinion in the town so unanimous
against him that he longed for an assurance that some one beside himself
believed in Ned's innocence.

"Oi doan't know, Bill," Luke Marner said, stroking his chin as he always
did when he was thinking; "oi doan't know, Bill--oi hoape he didn't
do it, wi' all my heart. But oi doan't know aboot it. He war sorely
tried--that be sartain. But if he did it, he did it; it makes no
difference to me. It doan't matter to me one snap ov the finger whether
the lad killed Foxey or whether he didn't--that bain't my business or
yours. What consarns me is, as the son of the man as saved my child's
loife at t' cost of his own be hunted by the constables and be in risk
of his loife. That's t' question as comes home to me--oi've had nowt
else ringing in my ears all day. Oi ha' been oot to a searching high
and low. Oi ain't a found him, but oi ha made oop moi moi