'Seems as if the world's nought but a snare, Ed'ard.' 'Yes. But I'm going to spend my life keeping you safe, little Hazel. I hope it won't make you unhappy to leave the Mountain?' 'Leave the Mountain?' 'Yes. I must give up the ministry.' 'Why ever?' 'Because I know now that Jesus Christ was not God, but only a brave, loving heart hunted to death.' 'Be that why you dunna say prayers now?' 'Yes. I can't take money for telling lies.' 'What'll you do if you inna a minister, Ed'ard?' 'Break stones--anything.' Hazel clapped her hands. 'Can I get a little 'ammer and break, too?' 'Some day. It will only be poor fare and a poor cottage, Hazel.' 'It'll be like heaven!' 'We shall be together, little one.' 'What for be your eyes wet, Ed'ard?' 'At the sweetness of knowing you didn't go of your own accord.' 'What for did you shiver?' 'At the dark power of our fellow-creatures set against us.' 'I inna feared of 'em now, Ed'ard. Maybe it'll come right, and you'll get all as you'd lief have.' 'I only want you.' 'And me you.' They both had happy dreams that night. Outside, the stars were fierce with frost. The world hardened. In the bitter still air and the greenish moonlight the chapel and parsonage took on an unreal look, as if they were built of wavering, vanishing material, and stood somewhere outside space on a pale, crumbling shore. Without, the dead slept, each alone, dreamless. Within, the lovers slept, each alone, but dreaming of a day when night should bring them home each to the other. As the moon set, the shadows of the gravestones lengthened grotesquely, creeping and creeping as if they would dominate the world. In the middle of the night Foxy awoke, and barked and whimpered in some dark terror, and would not be comforted. Chapter 36