"Then," cried Mrs Slee, wiping her eyes with a hasty snatch or two of her apron, "I'm glad on it. A bad villain, to go and try to do such a thing by the place as he made his bread by. I hope to goodness he'll niver come back," she cried, in her old sharp vinegary tone. "I hope I may niver set eyes upon him again. Bud I don't want him to go to prison. Bud you're not going out again to-night, sir?" she said, imploringly. "I must go up to the House and see that all is well there, Mrs Slee," he replied; "and call as I go and see how poor Banks is." "Bud is it true, sir, that Daisy has come back?" "Yes," said the vicar, sadly. "Poor girl, she has returned." "Bud you wean't go now, sir; it's close upon two o'clock." "Lie down on the sofa, Mrs Slee. I shall be able to wake you when I come back." "Theer niver was such a man," muttered Mrs Slee, as she let him out; "and as for that Sim, well, I'm ommost sorry he did get away." As the vicar approached the foreman's cottage he saw some one cross the lighted window, and on getting nearer he recognised the figure. "Is that you, Podmore?" he said in a low voice. "Yes, sir, yes," was the reply. "I only thought I'd like to know how poor Joe Banks is getting on." "I'm going in, and if you'll wait I'll tell you." "Thank ye, sir, kindly," said the young man. "I will wait." "Poor fellow!" thought the vicar, with a sigh; "even now, when she comes back stained and hopeless to the old home, his love clings to her still. It's a strange thing this love! Shall she then, and in spite of all, find that I cannot root up a foolish hopeless passion that makes me weak--weak even as that poor fellow there?" A low knock brought Daisy to the door, and on entering, it was to find Mrs Banks on her knees by her husband, who seemed in a heavy sleep. The doctor had been again, and had only left half-an-hour before. "He says there's nowt to fear, sir," whispered Mrs Banks; "but, oh, sir, will he live?" "We are in His hands, Mrs Banks," was the reply. "I hope and pray he may." Daisy was looking on with dilated eyes, and pale, drawn face, and as, after some little time, during which he had sought with homely, friendly words to comfort the trembling wife, he rose to go, Daisy approached to let him out, when fancying that he shrank from her, the poor girl's face became convulsed, and she tried hard but could not stifle a low wail. She opened the door as he kindly said "Good night;" but as the faint light shone out across the garden and on to the low hedge, Daisy caught him by the arm. "Don't go, sir," she whispered, in a frightened voice; "it mayn't be safe. Look: there's a man watching you." "You are unnerved," he said, kindly; and then without thinking--"It is only Podmore; he was waiting as I came in." "Tom!" the poor gill ejaculated, catching his arm, "is it Tom? Oh, sir, for the love of God, tell him I'm not the wicked girl he thinks." "My poor girl!"