Dan had been told that rioters generally got off without difficulty. It was not easy to trace them, and their safety was in numbers and their semi-disguise; and Jack Swing, or the man with the nose, had escaped on various similar occasions, wearing a different disguise at each place. It had not come into their calculations that they had gone so far as to rouse the spirit of the landowners, who had at first dealt gently with the disturbances, but who now felt that strong measures must be taken to prevent the mischief from going further. He thought himself safe when he had once got away from the strong-room at Greenhow, and he was slouching about his garden when Cox the constable, backed by two stout men, came with a warrant, from Sir Harry Hartman, for the apprehension of Daniel Hewlett for peace-breaking and arson. He began to argue that it was not he more than any one else, and he hadn't set fire to nothing, but he was told that he must reserve his defence for his trial, and the handcuffs were put on, and he was carried off in a cart, just as John was hurrying up the lane, having got leave from his master to see how his aunt was, before beginning work. Molly had seen her husband taken to prison before, and she did not realise that this was a much more serious affair than were his poaching misdemeanours, so that she was not so much overpowered as might have been expected; and, as he was taken by the well-known constable instead of the soldiers, she did not treat it as John's fault. Besides, she was really afraid of, as she said, "upsetting" Judith by another outcry, so she only moaned in a low, miserable voice about what was to become of her and her poor children, though after all, what with the parish, Judith's help, and John's earnings, she would be no worse off than was common with her. Jem was supposed to "keep himself," and only Judy was really on her hands. She would hardly let her son go up and see Judith. "Now, you'll be terrifying of her, and she'll be upset again and holler, and go into a fit." However, he took off his boots and went up softly. Judith was all alone, lying still, but he had never seen her look half so ill, though she opened her eyes and smiled when the creaking stair announced him, and when he bent over her she said, "Dear lad, you bain't hurt!" "Oh no; not at all." "And the dear ladies are safe?" "Yes; Tirzah Todd came and took them away." "Thank God!" "But you are bad, auntie?" "Oh, never mind. All's right! You've done your duty, and I can only thank God for my good lad." Her voice grew faint, her eyes closed, and John was obliged to go away-- but the look of peace stayed with him. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. JUDITH. "And of our scholars let us learn Our own forgotten lore." _Keble_.