Robert turned white. Rose, watching the little scene with listless eyes, saw him towering over the group like an embodiment of wrath and pity. ‘If they turn us out, sir,’ said old Milsom, wistfully looking up at Elsmere with blear eyes, ‘there’ll be nothing left but the House for us old ‘uns. Why, lor’ bless you, sir, it’s not so bad but we can make shift.’ ‘You, Milsom!’ cried Robert; ‘and you’ve just all but lost your grandchild! And you know your wife’ll never be the same woman since that bout of fever in the spring. And----’ His quick eyes ran over the old man’s broken frame with a world of indignant meaning in them. ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ said Milsom, unmoved. ‘But if it isn’t fevers, it’s summat else. I can make a shilling or two where I be, speshally in the first part of the year, in the basket work, and my wife she goes charing up at Mr. Carter’s farm, and Mr. Dodson, him at the further farm, he do give us a bit sometimes. Ef you git us turned away it will be a bad day’s work for all on us, sir, you may take my word on it.’ ‘And my wife so ill’ Mr. Elsmere,’ said Sharland, ‘and all those childer! I can’t walk three miles further to my work, Mr. Elsmere, I can’t nohow. I haven’t got the legs for it. Let un be, Sir. We’ll rub along.’ Robert tried to argue the matter. If they would but stand by him he would fight the matter through, and they should not suffer, if he had to get up a public subscription, or support them out of his own pocket all the winter. A bold front, and Mr. Henslowe must give way. The law was on their side, and every laborer in Surrey would be the better off for their refusal to be housed like pigs and poisoned like vermin. In vain. There is an inexhaustible store of cautious endurance in the poor against which the keenest reformer constantly throws himself in vain. Elsmere was beaten. The two men got his word, and shuffled off back to their pestilential hovels, a pathetic content beaming on each face. Catherine and Robert went back into the study. Rose heard her brother-in-law’s passionate sigh as the door swung behind them. ‘Defeated!’ she said to herself with a curious accent. ‘Well, everybody must have his turn. Robert has been too successful in his life, I think.--You wretch!’ she added, after a minute, laying her bright head down on the book before her. Next morning his wife found Elsmere after breakfast busily packing a case of books in the study. They were books from the Hall library, which so far had been for months the inseparable companion of his historical work. Catherine stood and watched him sadly. ‘Must You, Robert?’ ‘I won’t be beholden to that man for anything an hour longer than I can help,’ he answered her. When the packing was nearly finished he came up to where she stood in the open window. ‘Things won’t be as easy for us in the future, darling,’ he said to her. ‘A rector with both Squire and agent against him is rather heavily handicapped. We must make up our minds to that.’