ser we came until we were within a few yards of each
other. I could not speak to him. I was ashamed. I was a guilty
wretch, and could not look an honest man in the face, so I passed by
without looking at him or speaking a word. Another mile I tramped,
then I saw a farmer coming in his cart; evidently he was going to some
distant market. I would speak to him. I had now got over the shock
which the sight of the other man had given me.

"Could you tell me," I said as he came near, "how far Morton Hall is
from here?"

"Morton Hall," he replied, "I' sh' think I cud. I ain't a lived in
this ere neberhood for vive and vorty year wiout knawin' that?"

I waited for him to go on, but he did not speak another word, and then,
looking at me strangely, prepared to drive on.

"_Will_ you tell me, then?" I said.

"You asked me if I _cud_," he said, "not ef I _wud_. Es, I'll tell
'ee, tes nine mile'n haaf," and the farmer drove on.

Nine miles and a half! I had walked twenty-five miles then, and more.
I was very tired, and I knew not why I should go there; but, impelled
by a strong power, I hurried on.

By this time the day was quite warm, and soon I began to feel the
perspiration ooze from my forehead, so seeing a stream of clear water
running by the roadside I stooped down and washed myself. It helped
and refreshed me much, and enabled me to think more calmly. Then I
remembered that many a long hour had passed since I had tasted food. I
felt hungry and faint, but I walked on, for there seemed small hope of
obtaining food for some time. Happening, however, to pass near a
farmhouse I heard some one singing. It was a milkmaid sitting among
her cows, singing as she worked, and her song was the expression of a
light heart free from guilt. Jumping over a stile I made my way
towards her, and seeing me coming she stood up and curtsied.

"Can you sell me some milk, Mary?" I said.

"No sur, I can't sell any, and my name edn't Mary but Em'ly, but I can
give 'ee zum."

With that she ran to the house, and soon appeared with a quart jug,
which she dipped into the bucket and filled, then handed it to me. I
drank it greedily, and I did not take my lips from the jug until I had
nearly emptied it. To me it was both meat and drink, and it gave me
new life. I offered the girl money, but she refused it indignantly.

"As thoa," she said, "anybody cud taake money vur a drap a milk."

I had no difficulty in accomplishing the r