He looked up with the unwillingness of one who hates the sound he hears, and saw her standing on the lowest step. Her black hair had fallen upon her shoulders, her quick breath shook the shawl she held about her, and the light in her hand showed the anguished brightness of the eyes. "Isaac, are yer comin' up?" The question maddened him. He turned to look at her more fixedly. "Comin' up? Noa, I'm not comin' up--so now know. Take yerself off, an' be quick." She trembled. "Are yer goin' to sleep down 'ere, Isaac?" "Aye, or wherever I likes: it's no concern o' yourn. I'm no 'usband o' yourn from this day forth. Take yerself off, I say!--I'll 'ave no thief for _my_ wife!" But, instead of going, she stepped down into the kitchen. His words had broken her down; she was crying again. "Isaac, I'd ha' put it back," she said, imploring. "I wor goin' in to Bedford to see Mr. Grimstone--'ee'd ha' managed it for me. I'd a' worked extra--I could ha' done it--if it 'adn't been for Timothy. If you'll 'elp--an' you'd oughter, for yer _are_ my 'usband, whativer yer may say--we could pay John back--some day. Yo' can go to 'im, an' to Watson, an' say as we'll pay it back--yo' _could_, Isaac. I can take ter the plattin' again, an' I can go an' work for Mrs. Drew--she asked me again lasst week. Mary Anne 'ull see to the childer. Yo' go to John, Isaac, to-morrer--an'--an'--to Watson. All they wants is the money back. Yer couldn't--yer couldn't--see me took to prison, Isaac." She gasped for breath, wiping the mist from her eyes with the edge of her shawl. But all that she said only maddened the man's harsh and pessimist nature the more. The futility of her proposals, of her daring to think, after his fiat and the law's had gone forth, that there was any way out of what she had done, for her or for him, drove him to frenzy. And his wretched son was far away; so he must vent the frenzy on her. The melancholia, which religion had more or less restrained and comforted during a troubled lifetime, became, on this tragic night, a wild-beast impulse that must have its prey. He rose suddenly and came towards her, his eyes glaring, and a burst of invective on his white lips. Then he made a rush for a heavy stick that leant against the wall. She fled from him, reached her bedroom in safety, and bolted the door. She heard him give a groan on the stairs, throw away the stick and descend again. Then, for nearly two hours, there was absolute stillness once more in this miserable house. Bessie had sunk, half fainting, on a chair by the bed, and lay there, her head lying against the pillow. But in a very short time the blessed numbness was gone, and consciousness became once more a torture, the medium of terrors not to be borne. Isaac hated her--she would be taken from her children--she felt Watson's grip upon her arm--she saw the jeering faces at the village doors.