'Nonsense, little frightened creature! It is the brent-geese!' 'Mark, last time I heard them it betokened death. Then it was two souls—two flying—flying—and the dogs in full career after them.' 'You, Zita,' laughed Mark, 'do you remember when we spoke of this on the ice, I said when next you heard the brent-geese I hoped I might stand by you. Zita, please God, when the hell-hounds, if such they be,—and I don't believe a word of it,—be let loose, scenting my soul or yours, that I may be by you, or you by me, to cheer each other in the final and dreadful race.' Zita shuddered. 'Mark, it may not be. I shall stand by Drownlands. I have promised—a deal is a deal.' CHAPTER XXXIX THE CUT EMBANKMENT Drownlands had been for some time in the upstairs room that served as his office. He had brought out his account-books, lighted his lamp, and was endeavouring to engage his thoughts on his expenditure in wages, and to go over the names of his workmen, and strike out such as had taken part in the recent riot. But it was in vain. After a few futile attempts, he leaned his head on his palm, and gave himself over to thoughts of Zita. It was poor comfort to him to know that she would remain in his house, but it was a comfort. He felt confidence in her—that, having passed her word to remain, remain she would, whatever might happen. Whatever animadversions might be made on her presence in his house, however deeply her reputation might suffer, she would stay with him. She had passed her word. It was not unlikely, he thought, that some swain might become enamoured of her, and ask her to join her lot with his, but she would refuse him. She would remain an old maid at Prickwillow, because she had passed her word. Not for a moment did Drownlands' faith in Zita give way. She had impressed the man indelibly with a conviction of her sincerity. Zita as a Cheap Jack was one thing, Zita in private life was another. She had one conscience for her dealings with the general public, another conscience for her dealings with individuals face to face. The sun might rise in the west and go down in the Orient sky, but Zita could not fail to keep her word. Drownlands was startled from his reverie by the maid Sarah, who rushed in at the door, exclaiming— 'Master, the water be out!' 'What water?' 'The boy says the fen is flooded.' 'Flooded?' 'He says the bank be broke.' 'The Lark embankment?' Drownlands realised instantly the significance of the announcement. 'Quick!' said he; 'light me the lantern. Sharp! No time is to be lost.' He ran to the corner to snatch up a stick, and, without observing what he did, laid hold of the flail. He did not perceive his mistake till he had reached the foot of the staircase. Then he could not delay to return and exchange it for a staff. He caught the lantern from the hand of Sarah and went out into the yard. His feet at once splashed into water.