d
made a sign towards the applicant. "Folk do say it."

"Matabel," said the good-natured farmer's daughter, "you go along
to Thursley, and father and I will talk it over. If we think we
can take you--where shall we send to find you?"

"To Betty Chivers' house."

"Well, in half an hour I trust we shall have decided. Now go."

As Mehetabel withdrew, Polly said, "It's all gammon, father, about
her not being right in her head. Her eye is as steady as the
evenin' star. And it's all lies about there bein' any fault in her.
Matabel is as honest and true as sunlight."

Then old Colpus shouted after Mehetabel, who was departing by the
lane. "Don't go that way, over the field is the path--by the stile.
There's a lot o' water in the lane."

The young mother turned, thanked him with an inclination of the
head, and pressing her cheek to the child she bore, she took the
path that crossed a meadow, and which led to a tuft of holly, near
which was the stile, into the lane. She walked on, with her cheek
resting on the child's head, and her eyes on the trodden, cropped
wintry grass, with a flutter of hope in her bosom; for she was
almost certain that with the influence of Polly engaged on her
side, old Colpus would agree to receive her.

She did not walk swiftly. She had no occasion for haste. She hoped
that the objections of the farmer would give way before she had
reached the hedge, and that he would recall her.

She had almost arrived t the turf of holly, singing in a low tone
to the child in her arms, when, a voice made her start and cry out.

She looked up. Jonas was before her.

Unobserved by her he had entered the field. From the lane he had
seen her, and he had crossed the stile and come upon her.

She stood frozen to the spot. Each muscle became rigid; the blood
in her arteries tingled as though bees were making their way through
every vein. Her brows met in a black band across her face. She
trembled for a moment, and then was firm. A supreme moment, the
supreme moment in her life was come.

"So I have found you at last," sneered Jonas. Hatred, fury, were
in him and sent a quiver through the tones of his voice.

"Yes, you have found me," she answered with composure.

"You--do you know what you have done? Made me a derision and a talk
to all Thursley, a jest in every pot-house."

"I have not done this. It is your doing."

"Is it not enough that I have lost my money, but must I have this
scandal and outrage in