ngth:

"One thing more. Cushion-Kate called after me, that I must make away
with myself--I won't do that, for your sake."

His wife stroked his hand, wet with freshly-fallen tears.

"I won't give people the satisfaction of thinking we need sympathy.
Leave the candle burning; and then, if I wake up again, I shall know I
am no longer in prison. Good-night, we'll go to sleep now."

He slept until late in the day. His wife rose gently and went about her
work, carefully avoiding the least noise that might wake her husband.
She blessed every moment that brought him sleep and exhilarating
strength and health.

CHAPTER XLII.

Thoma was still in the harvest field when Landolin came into the
living-room. His wife sat down beside him, and he said:

"You can't think how different food tastes when one has to eat it
alone, in prison."

"Don't let your thoughts run back to that all the time."

"Has any one been here to see me?"

"No. But remember what you said last night."

Yes, that was easily said; but Landolin could not help thinking of the
people outside, and how it could be possible that they were not at
least curious to look at him again.

He looked out of the window. Heavily laden grain-wagons passed by, but
no farmer, no servant, so much as gave a glance toward his house. The
new bailiff came up the road, steadying the wagon with his pitchfork.
He had evidently seen Landolin from a distance; for, not far from the
house, he walked to the other side of the wagon, where he could not be
seen.

Landolin drew back into the room, and seating himself in the great
arm-chair he drummed awhile on its arms, then went into the bedroom and
pulled on his high boots.

"You're not going out?" said his wife. He looked at her in
astonishment. This questioning, this observation of all he did or left
undone, was distasteful to him. He was about to say so to his wife, but
checked himself, and explained that in prison he had worn slippers, and
he felt like putting on his boots again, and going out.

The cracking of a whip was heard in the yard.

It was Peter on the saddle horse, driving the four-horse grain-wagon.
Landolin went out, and met Thoma with sunburnt face following the
wagon. For a while she looked at her father in silence, as though she
could find nothing to say. Her look was severe and gloomy.

"Good morning, Thoma."

"Good morning, father," she replied. A milder frame of mind s