e. I don't care if he beats me--not
that he ever did beat sir, but he might now--for he was terrible stern
in telling me as I wasn't to come and see you."

Ned heard her without an interruption. The truth flashed across his
mind. It was Luke Marner himself who was going to America, and was
going to write home to clear him. Yet surely Luke could never have done
it--Luke, so different from the majority of the croppers--Luke, who had
steadily refused to have anything to say to General Lud and his
schemes against the masters. Mary's last words gave him a clue to the
mystery--"Your dear feyther gave his life for little Jenny." He coupled
it with Luke's enigmatical words, "A loife for a loife."

For a minute or two he sat absolutely silent. Mary was hurt at the
seeming indifference with which he received the news. She drew herself
up a little, and said, in an altered voice,

"I will say goodby, sir. I hope you won't think I was taking a liberty
in thinking you would be sorry if we were all to go without your knowing
it."

Ned roused himself at her words.

"It is not that, Polly. It is far from being that. But I want to ask
you a question. You remember the night of Mr. Mulready's murder? Do you
remember whether your father was at home all that evening?"

Polly opened her eyes in surprise at a question which seemed to her so
irrelevant to the matter in hand;

"Yes, sir," she replied, still coldly. "I remember that night. We are
not likely any of us to forget it. Feyther had not gone to the 'Cow.'
He sat smoking at home. Bill had dropped in, and they sat talking of the
doings of the Luddites till it was later than usual. Feyther was sorry
afterward, because he said if he had been down at the 'Cow' he might
have noticed by the talk if any one had an idea that anything was going
to take place."

"Then he didn't go out at all that night, Polly?"

"No, sir, not at all that night; and now, sir, I will say goodby."

"No, Polly, you won't, for I shall go back with you, and I don't think
that you will go to America."

"I don't understand," the girl faltered.

"No, Polly, I don't suppose you do; and I have not understood till now.
You will see when you get back."

"If you please," Mary said hesitatingly, "I would rather that you would
not be there when feyther comes back. Of course I shall tell him that I
have been down to see you, and I know he will be very angry."

"I think I shall be able to put that straight. I can't