'Isaac, I'd ha' put it back,' she said, imploring. 'I wor goin in to Bedford to see Mr. Grimstone--'ee'd ha' managed it for me. I'd a worked extra--I could ha' done it--if it 'adn't been for Timothy. If you'll 'elp--an you'd oughter, for yer _are_ my 'usband, whativer yer may say-- we could pay John back--some day. Yo can go to 'im, an to Watson, an say as we'll pay it back--yo _could_, Isaac. I can take ter the plattin again, an I can go an work for Mrs. Drew--she asked me again lasst week. Mary Anne ull see to the childer. You go to John, Isaac, to-morrer--an-- an--to Watson. All they wants is the money back. Yer couldn't--yer couldn't--see me took to prison, Isaac.' She gasped for breath, wiping the mist from her eye with the edge of her shawl. But all that she said only maddened the man's harsh and pessimist nature the more. The futility of her proposals, of her daring to think, after his fiat and the law's had gone forth, that there was any way out of what she had done, for her or for him, drove him to frenzy. And his wretched son was far away; so he must vent the frenzy on her. The melancholia, which religion had more or less restrained and comforted during a troubled lifetime, became on this tragic night a wild-beast impulse that must have its prey. He rose suddenly and came towards her, his eyes glaring, and a burst of invective on his white lips. Then he made a rush for a heavy stick that leant against the wall. She fled from him, reached her bedroom in safety, and bolted the door. She heard him give a groan on the stairs, throw away the stick, and descend again. Then for nearly two hours there was absolute stillness once more in this miserable house. Bessie had sunk, half-fainting, on a chair by the bed, and lay there, her head lying against the pillow. But in a very short time the blessed numbness was gone, and consciousness became once more a torture, the medium of terrors not to be borne. Isaac hated her--she would be taken from her children--she felt Watson's grip upon her arm--she saw the jeering faces at the village doors. At times a wave of sheer bewilderment swept across her. How had it come about that she was sitting there like this? Only two days before she had been everybody's friend. Life had been perpetually gay and exciting. She had had qualms indeed, moments of a quick anguish, before the scene in the 'Spotted Deer.' But there had been always some thought to protect her from herself. John was not coming back for a long, long time. She would replace the money--of course she would! And she would not take any more--or only a very little. Meanwhile the hours floated by, dressed in a colour and variety they had never yet possessed for her--charged with all the delights of wealth, as such a human being under such conditions is able to conceive them.