"I warn't allus like tha's known me. I war a God-fearing wife once, an' a mother 'at yearned to her babby. Mary war my first an' my last, an' it seemed 'at she'd ta'en all th' love I hed to gie. There war nowt but Mary i' my mind when I wakened i' th' morn, an' nowt but Mary at my heart when I coddled her up for th' neet. Then--tha knows th' rest; lad, can tha wonder 'at I sent thy father to his deäth?" she finished, half in fury, half in pleading. Still Lomax could not grip the full meaning of the thing. He grew dreamily awake to the fact that some one was taking his father's name in vain, and he knew that he must defend him. "Father never touched your girl," he said hoarsely. "Has it taken you all these years to learn the truth? Did you never see Captain Laverack hanging round your cottage, nor see the lust in his face? Laverack it was that led her wrong; he was a friend of father's till then, and he used to stay at the Manor. He left soon after--fled the country for awhile, because of other things he was mixed up with--and your girl put it all on father's shoulders, thinking to get help from him when the child was born." The woman on the bed was following Griff closely. "Laverack! Laverack!" she muttered, shutting her eyes. "Where hev I heärd th' name lately?" "Laverack has come back to these parts and bought Frender's Folly," said Griff. Mother Strangeways peered across the smoke reek. "Come nearer, lad; I want to see thy een--nay, I'm ower far gone to try my pranks again," she added, seeing him hesitate. He came close and she watched his eyes. "Is't truth tha'rt speaking, Griff Lummax?" "Truth? Ay, bitter truth." "I believe thee. Thowts come thranging back now; I niver thowt to pitch on Laverack, for all th' lass war busy wi' his name while she lay a-child-bed. But I see it now, I see it now." She sprang up in bed and clutched him by the arm. "Griff, if tha's getten ony love for thy own mother, think on me; think what it meäns, lad, to lose a daughter an' see th' man what killed her go free. Kill him, Griff; he's not aboon three mile away this very minute, an' there's no snaw to stop thee. Run hot an' fast, an' tak him by t' throat, an' say Mother Strangeways sent ye." She was growing delirious now. Still Griff could not throw off the full weight of his stupor. Instinctive stubbornness was his only ally. "I won't," he said bluntly. "Tha might ha' childer o' thy own, lad--bonny wenches 'at war biding th' time of a gooid man's coming; think what it meäns, an' if tha's getten ony bowels o' compassion, help a deeing woman to her rights." "I won't, curse you!" Her voice grew coaxing. Death might win her, to have and to hold, in a very few moments; but meanwhile the ruling passion would let her take no rest.