"Richard means what he says. He will not forget; and time gives with both hands to the patient and the truthful. Is the squire satisfied?" "I don't think he blames Richard. The shadow I felt on the night of our betrothal has begun to creep toward me, Phyllis. I am in its chill and gloom. It will darken all our remaining hours together, and they are few now." "Make the most of them, dear. Get all the sunshine you can; stay with Richard. I am going to the village to bid Martha good-bye." "Richard says you are to sail Wednesday?" "Yes; what is the use of drawing out a parting? We have had a happy holiday. Let us go ere its spirit is over. There must be times and seasons, Elizabeth; it is the part of love and wisdom never to force them. Besides, uncle has a very sore place in his heart, and Richard can hardly avoid rubbing against it. It is best for us to go." Martha was a little dull, and Phyllis was struck with her explanation: "I'm a bit selfish to-day; and t' heart that isn't loving isn't cheerful. Ben and me hev been so much to each other, that it comes a bit hard to hev to step aside for a lass as one doesn't care much for." She put her checked apron to her eyes, and wiped away a few tears. "But Ben can never forget what you did for him." "It was Mary after a' that saved him. I nobbut prayed night and day. She brought the magistrate and t' constable. Men don't count much on prayer." "Dear Martha, God sends by whom he will send. If he had thought it best, you would have got the order. God looks afar off--for the years that are to come--when you may be where all tears are wiped away." "I know, I know." "Don't let Ben think you grudge him the fullest measure of his happiness and deliverance. Mothers must have a deal to bear. The best of children are blind, I think." Martha was crying quietly. "He was t' last left me. I hev carried him i' my heart for months, till my heart is fair empty without him. I wanted him a little bit to mysen. She's a good girl, is Mary, and I'm trying hard to love her; but I've got a weight on me that's bad to bide." "If it's a bitter cup, drink it, Martha." "My lass, I'll do that. There'll be a blessing in t' bottom o' it, never fear. I'm nobbut standing as a bairn does wi' a cup o' medicine; and when a thing is hard to take, its nobbut human nature to say it's none nice." "I am come to say 'good-bye' Martha; I don't want to leave you in tears." "Nay then is ta! Surely to goodness thou isn't going in t' dead o' winter?" "Yes. We leave Hallam to-morrow." "Then bide a bit. I'll mak' a cup o' tea in t' little Wesley tea-pot; and I'll toast thee a Yorkshire cake, and we'll eat a mouthful together in this world before we part. We'll be none like to meet again." She wiped away every trace of tears, and drew the little table to the hearth-stone, and set out her humble service. And she quite put away her own trouble and spoke cheerfully, and served Phyllis with busy hospitality.