o return to the Punch-Bowl would be to enter
on ignoble broils, and to run the gauntlet of a whole clique united
to sting, wound, bruise her to death. How could she carry on the
necessary business of the farm when obstructed in every way? How
manage her domestic affairs, without some little assistance from
outside, which would be refused her?

She entertained no resentment against Iver Verstage for having
excluded her from the inn, but a sense of humiliation at having
ventured to seek his help unsolicited. Surely she had an excuse.
He had always been to her the one to whom her thoughts turned in
confidence and in hope. It was in him and through him that all
happiness was to be found. He had professed the sincerest attachment
to her. He had sought her out at the Punch-Bowl, when she shrank
from him; and had she not been sacrificed--her whole life blighted
for his sake? Surely, if he thought anything of her, if he had
any spark of affection lingering in his heart for her, any care
for her future, he would never leave her thus desolate, friendless,
houseless!

She wandered from the churchyard gate, aimless, and before she was
aware whither she was going, found herself in the confines of
Pudmoor. How life turns in circles! Before, when she had run from
the Ship, self-excluded, she had hasted to Pudmoor. Now, again,
excluded, but by Iver, she turned instinctively to Pudmoor. Once
before she had run to Thor's Stone, and now, when she found help
nowhere else, she again took the same direction. She had asked
assistance once before at the anvil, she would ask it there again.
Before she had asked to be freed from Iver. She had no need to ask
that now, he had freed himself from her. She would seek of the
spirits, what was denied her by her fellow-men, a home where she
might rest along with her baby.

The first time she had sought Thor's Stone she had been alone, with
herself only to care for, though indeed for herself she had cared
nothing. Now, on this second occasion, she was burdened with the
child infinitely precious to her heart, and for the sake of which
even a stumble must be avoided. The first time she had been fresh,
in the full vigor of her strength. Now she was worn out with a
long tramp, and all the elasticity gone out of her, all the strength
of soul and body broken.

Slowly, painfully she crept along, making sure of every step. The
full moon did not now turn the waters into gold, but the illumined
twilight sky