turn Dick Jackson met me with his sneers.
I have walked the, night through, in the old
abbey field, planning how I could out-wit
him, and win men's respect in spite of him.
The first time I ever prayed, was underneath
the silent stars, kneeling by the old abbey
walls, throwing up my arms, and asking God
for the power of revenge upon him.

I had heard that if I prayed earnestly, God
would give me what I asked for, and I looked
upon it as a kind of chance for the fulfilment
of my wishes. If earnestness would have won
the boon for me, never were wicked words
so  earnestly spoken. And oh, later on, my
prayer was heard, and my wish granted! All
this time I saw little of Nelly. Her grandmother
was failing, and she had much to do
in-doors. Besides, I believed I had read her
looks aright, when I took them to speak of
aversion; and I planned to hide myself from
her sight, as it were, until I could stand
upright before men, with fearless eyes, dreading
no face of accusation. It was possible to
acquire a good character; I would do it—I
did it: but no one brought up among respectable
untempted people can tell the unspeakable hardness
of the task.  In the  evenings I
would not go forth among the village throng;
for the acquaintances that claimed me were
my father's old associates, who would have
been glad enough to enlist a strong young
man like me in their projects; and the men
who would have shunned me and kept aloof,
were the steady and orderly. So I staid in-doors, and
practised myself in reading. You
will say, I should have found it easier to earn
a good character away from Sawley, at some
place where neither I nor my father was
known. So I should; but it would not have
been the same thing to my mind. Besides,
representing all good men, all goodness to
me, in Sawley Nelly lived. In her sight I
would work out my life, and fight my way
upwards to men's respect. Two years passed
on. Every day I strove fiercely; every day
my struggles were made fruitless by the son
of the overlooker; and I seemed but where I
was—but where I must ever be esteemed by
all who knew me—but as the son of the
criminal—wild, reckless, ripe for crime myself.
Where was the use of my reading and writing?
These acquirements were disregarded and
scouted by those among whom I was thrust
back to take my portion. I could have read
any chapter in the Bible now; and Nelly
seemed as though she would never know it.
I was driven in upon my books; and few
enough of them I had. The pedlars brought
them round in their packs, and I bought what
I could. I had the " Seven Champions," and
the " Pilgrim's Progress;" and both seemed
to me equally wonderful, and equally founded
on fact. I got Byron's "Narrative," and
Milton's " Paradise Lost;" but I lacked the
knowledge which would give a clue to all.
Still they afforded me pleasure, because they
took me out of myself, and made me forget
my miserable position, and made me
unconscious (for the time at least,) of my one great
passion of hatred against Dick Jackson.

When Nelly was about seventeen, her
grandmother died. I stood aloof in the churchyard,
behind the great yew-tree, and watched
the funeral. It was the first religious service
that ever I heard; and, to my shame, as I
thought, it affected me to tears. The words
seemed so peaceful and holy that I longed to
go to church, but I durst not, because I had
never been. The parish church was at Bolton,
far enough away to serve as an excuse for all
who did not care to go. I heard Nelly's sobs
filling up every pause in the clergyman's
voice; and every sob of hers went to my
heart. She passed me on her way out of the
churchyard; she was so near I might have
touched her; but her head was hanging down,
and I durst not speak to her. Then the
question arose, what was to become of her?
She must earn her living; was it to be as a
farm-servant, or by working at the mill ?  I
knew enough of both kinds of life to make
me tremble for her. My wages were such as
to enable me to marry, if I chose; and I
never thought of woman, for my wife, but
Nelly. Still I would not have married her
now, if I could; for, as yet, I had not risen up
to the character which I determined it was
fit that Nelly's husband should have. When
I was rich in good report, I would come
forwards, and take my chance; but until then.
I would hold my peace. I had faith in the
power of my long-continued dogged breasting
of opinion. Sooner or later it must, it should,
yield, and I be received among the ranks of
good men. But, meanwhile, what was to
become of Nelly ? I reckoned up my wages;
I went to inquire what the board of a girl
would be, who should help her in her
household work, and live with her as a daughter,
at the house of one of the most decent women
of the place; she looked at me suspiciously.
I kept down my temper, and told her I would
never come near the place; that I would keep
away from that end of the village; and that
the girl for whom I made the inquiry should
never know but what the parish paid for her
keep. It would not do; she suspected me;
but I know I had power over myself to have
kept to my word; and besides, I would not
for worlds have had Nelly put under any
obligation to me, which should speck the
purity of her love, or dim it by a mixture
of gratitude, the love that I craved to earn,
not for my money, not for my kindness, but
for myself. I heard that Nelly had met with
a place in Bolland; and I could see no
reason why I might not speak to her once
before she left our neighbourhood. I meant
it to be a quiet friendly telling her of my
sympathy in her sorrow. I felt I could command
myself. So, on the Sunday before she was to
leave Sawley, I waited near the wood-path,
by which I knew that she would return from
afternoon church. The birds made such a