melodious warble, such a busy sound among
the leaves, that I did not hear approaching
footsteps, till they were close at hand; and
then there were sounds of two persons' voices.
The wood was near that part of Sawley
where Nelly was staying with friends; the
path through it led to their house, and their's
only, so I knew it must be she, for I had
watched her setting out to church alone.

But who was the other?

The blood went to my heart and head, as if
I were shot, when I saw that it was Dick
Jackson. Was this the end of it all ? In the
steps of sin which my father had trode, I
would rush to my death and my doom. Even
where I stood I longed for a weapon to slay
him. How dared he come near my Nelly?
She too,—I thought her faithless, and forgot
how little I had ever been to her in outward
action; how few words, and those how
uncouth, I had ever spoken to her; and I hated
her for a traitress. These feelings passed
through me before I could see, my eyes and
head were so dizzy and blind. When I looked
I saw Dick Jackson holding her hand, and
speaking quick and low, and thick, as a man
speaks in great vehemence. She seemed white
and dismayed; but all at once, at some word
of his, (and what it was she never would tell
me), she looked as though she defied a fiend,
and wrenched herself out of his grasp. He
caught hold of her again, and began once
more, the thick whisper that I loathed. I
could bear it no longer, nor did I see why
I should. I stepped out from behind the
tree where I had been lying. When she saw
me, she lost her look of one strung up to
desperation, and came and clung to me; and
I felt like a giant in strength and might. I
held her with one arm, but I did not take my
eyes off him; I felt as if they blazed down
into his soul, and scorched him up. He never
spoke, but tried to look as though he defied
me; at last his eyes fell before mine. I dared
not speak; for the old horrid oaths thronged
up to my mouth; and I dreaded giving them
way, and terrifying my poor trembling Nelly.

At last he made to go past me; I drew her
out of the pathway. By instinct she wrapped
her garments round her, as if to avoid his
accidental touch; and he was stung by this,
I suppose—I believe—to the mad, miserable
revenge he took. As my back was turned to
him, in an endeavour to speak some words to
Nelly that might soothe her into calmness,
she, who was looking after him, like one
fascinated with terror, saw him take a sharp
shaley stone, and aim it at me. Poor darling!
she clung round me as a shield, making her
sweet body into a defence for mine. It hit
her, and she spoke no word, kept back her
cry of pain, but fell at my feet in a swoon.
He—the coward!—ran off as soon as he saw
what he had done. I was with Nelly alone
in the green gloom of the wood. The quivering
and leaf-tinted light made her look as if
she were dead. I carried her, not knowing if
I bore a corpse or not, to her friend's house.
I did not stay to explain, but ran madly for
the doctor.

Well! I cannot bear to recur to that time
again. Five weeks I lived in the agony of
suspense; from which my only relief was in
laying savage plans for revenge. If I hated
him before, what think ye I did now? It
seemed as if earth could not hold us twain,
but that one of us must go down to Gehenna.
I could have killed him; and would have
done it without a scruple, but that seemed too
poor and bold a revenge. At length—oh! the
weary waiting—oh! the sickening of my
heart—Nelly grew better—as well as she was
ever to grow. The bright colour had left her
cheek; the mouth quivered with repressed
pain, the eyes were dim with tears that agony
had forced into them; and I loved her a thousand
times better and more than when she was
bright and blooming! What was best of all,
I began to perceive that she cared for me.
I know her grandmother's friends warned her
against me, and told her I came of a bad
stock; but she had passed the point where
remonstrance from bystanders can take effect
—she loved me as I was, a strange mixture of
bad and good, all unworthy of her. We spoke
together now, as those do whose lives are
bound up in each other. I told her I would
marry her as soon as she had recovered her
health. Her friends shook their heads; but
they saw she would be unfit for farm-service
or heavy work, and they perhaps thought, as
many a one does, that a bad husband was
better than none at all. Anyhow we were
married; and I learnt to bless God for my
happiness, so far beyond my deserts. I kept
her like a lady. I was a skilful workman,
and earned good wages; and every want
she had I tried to gratify. Her wishes were
few and simple enough, poor Nelly! If they
had been ever so fanciful, I should have had
my reward in the new feeling of the holiness
of home. She could lead me as a little child,
with the charm of her gentle voice, and her
ever-kind words. She would plead for all
when I was full of anger and passion; only
Dick Jackson's name passed never between
our lips during all that time. In the evenings
she lay back in her bee-hive chair, and
read to me. I think I see her now, pale and
weak, with her sweet young face, lighted by
her holy, earnest eyes, telling me of the
Saviour's life and death, till they were filled
with tears. I longed to have been there, to
have avenged him on the wicked Jews. I
liked Peter the best of all the disciples. But
I got the Bible myself, and read the mighty
act of God's vengeance in the Old Testament,
with a kind of triumphant faith, that, sooner
or later, He would take my cause in hand,
and revenge me on mine enemy.

In a year or so, Nelly had a baby, a little
girl, with eyes just like hers, that looked with
a grave openness right into yours. Nelly
recovered but slowly. It was just before