Of the replies he gave to their eager questions they could make nothing. The questioners ran in haste for Matthew Moon or James Eastwood. These met with no better success. Ellah could not, or would not, hear. His eyes now rested constantly on the ground, and a lunatic he looked, with the helplessly dangling wrist at his breast. He hugged the wall, and whimpered when they tried to drag him from it; and he entered the inn again, chattering to himself, and locked himself in the landlord’s loom-loft. The landlord could only tell them that Ellah had knocked him up at two o’clock in the morning, alone. Matthew Moon would not now set foot in the “Cross Pipes” for fear of meeting Sally’s glance, and on Monjoy’s spirits no less a heaviness rested. One evening Monjoy besought his wife to accompany him for a walk, and they passed out of the Town End to a dean in the valley under Wadsworth Shelf. They sat down on the bank of a dried-up stream. Monjoy implored her to leave the inn and to come to their own house up the Fullergate. At the tone in which she replied he started a little. “You shall tell me why first; you shall tell me all,” she answered frigidly. “There’s nothing to tell, dear; John Raikes has sent no word,” he replied. He tried to take her hand, but she drew a little away from him. “Well, I can find out elsewhere; I thought I’d ask you first,” she said, in the same cold tone. “Come, let’s get back.” “Wait a bit, dearie,” he said dejectedly, and at that she turned quickly round on him. “Oh, I wait too much; it’s all waiting with us women. I waited in Wadsworth, before leaving all of a sudden. I’m to wait again now. Your tidings are public enough for a parson to preach about, but I’m not to be trusted, it seems. The only thing I’ve ever asked you for, too--a ring to wed me right--I must wait for that an’ all. Ay, we have need to be patient.” “I don’t want you to wait another day before you come to our own house that you asked for, Cicely.” “Our own house: but when I asked for that I asked you to turn to your engraving again, and buy me a ring I shouldn’t shame to wear, and be honest wi’ me as I am wi’ you. We spoil you wi’ waiting your pleasure, all of us, and I’m glad I came out to-night. I’m glad, because I can tell you this: I’ll come, perhaps, by and by. I’ll have a real husband or none. Look, there’s your ring. If I’m to have a husband o’ Sally’s sort, very well; me and Sally’ll wait together.” He had turned pale. “You can’t mean, Cicely----?” “Nay, that’s all past. I’ve thought over this. You tell me nothing, but I can guess what you dread for Jim and Sally--I can tell it by your face now. And I’m to leave her!... Nay, I’d rather leave my husband than have him ta’en from me. I’ll lie wi’ Sally to-night; you’ll be foolish to follow me. Keep your ring--it will melt up into something. I’ve waited; the little house can wait now.”