'Say out: far indeed for him not to be known as beaten for a thief, drowned like a dog.' Rhoda's hand slipped to his, unseen; she drew it softly against her lips. He did not heed. 'My boy,' said Lois, 'what will you do?' 'Mother, do you bid me go?' His hot brain knew of a grand enclosure where satisfying coolness and peace and splendid shade reigned, for no man's solace and award. 'You bid me go?' 'Dare you stay?' she said, 'dare I bid you?' His voice shook. 'What sort--of killing?' he asked, daunted now. Giles swore softly after the manner of his kind, under danger of tears. 'Where are your senses, lad? Great storms can't last. This is over, his Reverence will tell you that. Not twice in a lifetime, I guess, can the devil brew the like.' 'You bid me go?' 'Not now, not yet,' said Lois tremulously; 'but sin and shame were to keep you to a trial beyond your strength.' He said quite brokenly: 'You are looking for a broken promise.' 'Not that. Only--only, we know that 'twould be easier for you to face stranger folk, and hard though it be to let you go, far harder were it for you to stay, and we cannot ask it.' Christian's head sank: they all knew that he had not strength nor courage to stand upright under a disgraced life; he need but acquiesce for the last spark of self-respect to be extinct. It was long before he lifted his head; Rhoda only was there. He asked after Lois. She had gone with his Reverence up towards the church. He asked after Giles. He had gone down to the quay to his work of refitting the old boat. Tears stung his brain for the wicked destruction of his own boat, that like a living creature he had loved, and had not saved, and could not avenge. Rhoda left him but for a moment; passing out to the linhay, the door she left ajar. Christian stood up, touched his brow once or twice with uncertain fingers, drew sharp breath, crossed himself, and stept out into the world. He reeled in the sunlight. Its enmity struck at him, and he put up his hands against an unknown trouble, for in through his eyes into his brain flew strange little white birds and nested there and were not still. He alone stood upright in the midst of a rocking world; under his feet walked the path, the road, the street, bringing up an ambush of eyes, and grey birds and fire. In the street his coming started a scare. Only yesterday said he was long a-dying, so that now women fell back afraid of a ghost, for with every trace of sunburn gone his face was of a whiteness astonishing in the south. But some harder men cursed at the stubborn devil in the boy, that kept him alive out of all reckoning, and unsubdued. Face to face none met him till the corner where the street beached and the quay branched. There stood an idle group that suddenly gave before a reeling, haggard embodiment of hatred.