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"Herebring some water!" cried Peter, too much relieved to see her to be surprised at it."Caro, I'm going out to see the gates burned. I expect I'll be back before Ben is, but if I'm not, tell him where I'm gone."
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TWO:It was something more than a year from the flight of Holgrave, when business called Calverley to Gloucester; and, on passing along Silver girdle-street, his eye encountered Black Jack, whom he had not before seen since Edith's trial. The foreman accosted him after his usual manner, and whispered that he had something of moment to communicate, if he would accompany him to the Mitre. After some hesitation Calverley, consented, more especially as Black Jack hinted something about news of Holgrave; and, when seated in the room, in which their former interview had taken place, Oakley inquired if the Lord de Boteler, some twelve months ago, did not offer a reward for the apprehension of a certain bondman named

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THREE:But the cottage was shut. With its red-rotting roof between two tall chimneys it looked exactly like a rabbit's head between its ears; the windows were blind, though it was past seven o'clock, and though Reuben knocked at the door loudly, there was no one to be seen. He prowled once or twice round the house, fumbling handles and window-latches, but there was no way of getting in. He listened, but he could not hear a sound. He pictured Rose and Handshut in each other's arms, laughing at him in his wretchedness and their blissand all the time he wanted the woman's blood more than the man's.

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THREE:Rose did not talk much, but she ate heartilyshe must be as healthy as she looked. Once or twice during the meal Reuben caught himself staring at her lipsthey were extraordinarily red, and at the end of the meal the juice of her pudding had stained them purple.

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THREE:Then when he was about a hundred feet from the house the door opened stealthily and a man slunk out. The gleam of a street lamp passed over his face, and Dansay rushed at him with his fists up."Three year or so. I started up town. But we've spoken enough about me. Let's hear about you, and the farm. How's Richard?"

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"You take it from me that it's much better when a man has his own way than when he hasn't. Then he's pleased wud you and makes life warm and easy for you. It's women as are always going against men wot are unhappy. Please men and they'll be good to you and you'll be happy, d?an't please them and they'll be bad to you and you'll be miserable. But women who're for[Pg 103] ever grumbling, and making a fuss about doing wot they've got to do whether they like it or not, and are cross-grained wives, and unwilling mothers ..." and so on, and so on.The tenth evening after this exploit closed in heavily, and the wind blew chill and gusty, loaded with drizzling rain. Oakley felt little inconvenience from the night as, wrapped in a large cloak, and with an unusually broad-brimmed hat, he cautiously approached the low-roofed dwelling of Holgrave, in the forest of Dean. He had little difficulty in distinguishing it, Harvey having a few days previously, though without the least intimation of the reason, watched Holgrave from the foundry to his home. The blaze of a bright wood fire was streaming through the casement. Black Jack stept near enough to obtain a view of the interior, in order to assure himself that he was not mistaken, although, from the description he had received, he had little doubt; and a single glance convinced him it was the dwelling he sought. Holgrave was lying along a bench in the opposite chimney corner, his right elbow resting on the form, and his right cheek reposing on the upraised palm. He was looking with a smile at Margaret, who was sitting with her back to the window, and, by the motion of her right hand, was apparently engaged in sewing. The gazer conjectured that Holgrave had been asking her to sing, for, as he stood, she commenced a strain of such sweet and touching melody, that even Oakley (who, spite of his being so admirably "fit for treason," had "music in his soul,") listened with such breathless attention that one would have been tempted to conclude he might "be trusted." The ballad concluded, and Oakley still looked on, until Holgrave, after a few moments of apparently cheerful conversation, arose from the bench, in all probability with the intention of preparing for rest."I want to see Naomi.""And your damned son!" furiously cried Ditch of Totease.
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