Bess and Martha were still sitting hand in hand as Miss Anne had left them; but they both started up as Stephen entered, pale and ghastly from his long conflict with grief and temptation on the hills. He was come home conquered, though he did not know it; and the expression of his face was one of hatred and vengeance, instead of sorrow and love. He bade Black Bess to be off out of his sight in a voice so changed and harsh, that both the girls were frightened, and Martha stole away tremblingly with her. He was alone then, with his sleeping grandfather on the bed, and the dead child lying in the corner, from which he carefully averted his eyes; when there came a quiet tap at the door, and, before he could answer, it was slowly opened, and the master stepped into the cabin. He stood before the boy, looking into his white face in silence, and when he spoke his voice was very husky and low. 'My lad,' he said, 'I'm very sorry for you; and I'll have the pit bricked over at once. It had slipped my memory, Stephen; but Martha knew of it, and she ought to have taken better care of the child. It is no fault of mine; or it is only partly my fault, at any rate. But, whether or no, I'm come to tell you I'm willing to bear the expenses of the funeral in reason; and here's a sovereign for you besides, my lad.' The master held out a glittering sovereign in his hand, but Stephen pushed it away, and, seizing his arm firmly, drew him, reluctant as he was, to the white-covered table in the corner. There was no look of pain upon the pale, placid little features before them; but there was an awful stillness, and all the light of life was gone out of the open eyes, which were fixed into an upward gaze. The Bible, which Stephen had not looked for that morning, had been used instead of a cushion, and the motionless head lay upon it. 'That was little Nan yesterday,' said Stephen hoarsely; 'she is gone to tell God all about you. You robbed us of our own home; and you've been the death of little Nan. God's curse will be upon you. It's no use my cursing; I can do nothing; but God can punish you better than me. A while ago I thought I'd get away to some other country where I'd never hear of you; but I'll wait now, if I'm almost clemmed to death, till I see what God will do at you. Take your money. You've robbed me of all I love, but I won't take from you what you love. I'll only wait here till I see what God can do.'