he ban't dead, I'll make him smart yet for his evil act."

"I warned 'e. He was cheated behind his back, an' played with the same
cards what you did, and played better."

"Wheer is he now? That's what I want to knaw."

"Up in the house. They met on the bridge an' Grimbal bested him, Will
bein' weary an' empty-bellied. When the man flinged him in the stream,
he got under the arch behind the rocks afore he lost his head for a time
and went senseless. When he comed to he crawled up the croft and I let
un in."

"Thank God he's not dead; but punishment he shall have if theer's
justice in the land."

"Bide your time. He won't shirk it. But he's hurted proper; you might
let Jan Grimbal knaw, 't will ease his mind."

"Not it," declared Billy; "he thought he'd killed un; cracked the neck
of un."

"The blow 'pon his faace scatted abroad his left nostril; the fall
brawked his arm, not his neck; an' the spurs t' other was wearin' tored
his leg to the bone. Doctor's seen un; so tell Grimbal. Theer's pleasure
in such payment."

She spoke without emotion, and showed no passion against the master of
the Red House. When Will had come to her, being once satisfied in her
immediate motherly agony that his life was not endangered, she allowed
her mind a sort of secret, fierce delight at his performance and its
success in the main issue. She was proud of him at the bottom of her
heart; but before other eyes bore herself with outward imperturbability.

"You'll keep the gal, I reckon?" she said quietly; "if you can hold hand
off Will till he'm on his legs again, I'd thank you."

"I shall do what I please, when I please; an' my poor fule of a daughter
stops with me as long as I've got power to make her."

"Hope you'll live to see things might have been worse."

"That's impossible. No worse evil could have fallen upon me. My grey
hairs a laughing-stock, and your awn brother's hand in it. He knawed
well enough the crime he was committing."

"You've a short memory, Miller. I lay Jan Grimbal knaws the reason if
you doan't. The worm that can sting does, if you tread on it. Gude-night
to 'e."

"An' how do you find yourself now?" Billy inquired, as his master and he
returned to Monks Barton.

"Weary an' sick, an' filled with gall. Was it wrong to make the match,
do 'e think, seein' 't was all for love of my cheel? Was I out to push
so strong for it? I seem I done right, despite this awful mischance."

"An' so you did; an' my feeli