ience, "that she has no face to see us.
She that has been like a child or a sister to us, to leave us thus! O my
brother!"

"Come, come, my good woman, best not make a pother." Poor Patience's
homely garb and hard-worked looks shewed little of the yeoman class to
which she belonged. "You've done your duty by the maid and here's the
best I have to make it up."

Patience could not bring herself to take the bag, and he dropped it
into her basket "I am sorry for the young man, your brother, but he knew
better than to think to wed her as he is. And 'tis better for all there
should be no women's tears and foolishness over it."

"Is she willing?" Patience could not but ask.

"Willing?" Both men laughed. "Aye, what lass is not willing to take a
fine, strapping husband, and be a landed dame? She gave the token back
of her own free will, eh, Humfrey; and what did she bid us say?"

"Her loving greetings to--What were their Puritanical names?" said the
son contemptuously. "Aye, and that she pitied the poor clown down there,
but knew he would be glad of what was best for her."

"So farewell, good mistress," said Master Gaythorn, and off they clanked
together; and Patience, looking after them, could entirely believe that
the handsome buff coat, fringed belt, high boots, and jauntily cocked
hat would have driven out the thought of Stead in his best days. And now
that he was bent, crippled, weak, helpless,--"and all through her, what
hope was then," thought Patience, "yet if she had loved him, or there
had been any truth in her, she could have wedded him now, and he would
have been at ease through life! A little adder at our hearth! We are
well quit of her, if he will but think so, but how shall I ever tell
him?"

She did not rush in with the tidings but came home slowly, drearily,
so that Stead, who was sitting outside by the door, peeling rushes,
gathered that something was amiss, and soon wormed it out of her, while
her tears dropped fast for him. Still, as ever, he spoke little. He said
her uncle was right in sparing tears and farewells, no doubt reserving
to himself the belief that it was against her will. And when Patience
could not help declaring that the girl might have made him share her
prosperity, he said, "I'm past looking after her lands. Her uncle would
say so. 'Tis his doing; I am glad of what is best for my darling as was.
There's an end of it, Patience--joy and grief. And I thank God that the
child is safely ca