hat they are. Shoo sal have her vengeance, sure enough, an' then mebbe
t' coals o' fire will burn her as they're burnin' me." A red-hot cinder
fell into the grate as he spoke, and Learoyd gazed at it with curious
intentness until it had lost all its glow.

"I'll fotch t' halter out o' t' kist, an' I'll do it," he began once
more. "Shoo san't torment me no longer: t' coals o' fire sal be upon her
own heead."

Here he lapsed into morose silence, and Mary, re-entering the farm
kitchen shortly afterwards, found him, as she had left him, gazing
intently into the fire with the Bible open on his knees. She got tea
ready, but Learoyd stubbornly refused to eat or drink anything, and when
at last ten o'clock came the farmer roused himself from his lethargy and
stole off to bed, casting furtive glances at Mary as he passed through
the door. She wisely refrained from intruding herself upon him that
night, but, climbing the stairs to her bedroom, listened for sounds in
the adjoining chamber. She could hear Learoyd muttering to himself, and
she noticed that he was quicker in getting into bed than usual. A
suspicion crossed her mind that he had not undressed, and this confirmed
the idea which she had formed earlier in the evening that some secret
purpose was maturing in his mind. Sleep was not to be thought of, and
so, without taking off her clothes, she got into bed and listened.

Two hours passed, and all the time she heard Learoyd groaning in his
bed. Then he got up, struck a light, and remained still for a moment as
though he were listening for any sound that might come from her room.
Then she heard him open the door of his bedroom and creep, candle in
hand, along the passage. As he passed her door he stopped, and Mary held
her breath lest he should discover that she was awake and listening for
every sound. Apparently satisfied that she was asleep, the farmer
descended the stairs to the kitchen. Mary noiselessly crept out of bed
and, lifting the latch of her bedroom door, stood in the shadow of the
passage and watched every movement of her stepfather in the kitchen
below. He had opened the old oak chest by the wall and was fumbling
among its contents. At last he found what he was looking for and drew it
forth. It was a long rope, and, with a shudder, Mary recognised the
halter which had once been round her neck. Her head swam as the thought
came to her that Samuel Learoyd was going to sell her again, and groping
her way back to