"Leave it, for God’s sake," urged the man. "You’ll go mad at this gait. One thing be just as absurd as t’other. Some innocent fool saw your husband through the fog and shouted to him--perhaps just wished him a merry season or some such thing--and then went on his way and thought no more of it. Be sure you’ll hear the truth soon or late, and you’ll live to see your men as well and hearty next January as they are now." "You mean kindly to say these things," she answered. "But ’tis vain, and you’ll know it afore the year’s gone." "Well, give God Almighty a chance," he urged. "’Tis you will be dead, not them, if you go on so." They reached ’Meavy Cot’ and found Margaret. Her mother sat down, took off her bonnet and rested, while Madge stood a few minutes at the gate with Mr. Crocker before he started homeward. "Try and cheer her up," he said. "’Tis that damned nonsense about the voice at Crazywell. She’ll fret herself into her grave over it if this goes on." They discussed the matter for a while; then Madge spoke of Bartley himself. "Don’t know what to be at," he said. "My life’s stuck for the minute. I can’t ask her again yet, and I’m not going till I have. Just once more. But the thing is to know what to be doing meantime--how to get a bit forwarder. How is she?" "She’s all right--silenter than ever to me, though. Sometimes I think she’s judging me rather hardly and don’t reckon I’m a very good wife for David." "I’m sure that can’t be. She’s a long way too sensible to imagine any such nonsense." "She may be right, all the same. I don’t know what it is; I wouldn’t even name it to anybody but you and mother; but sometimes I feel as if there was a door between me and David, and sometimes he tries to open it, and I’m sure I’m always trying to, but it keeps shut." "Stuff!" he repeated. "You’re such a parcel of nerves, Madge--like poor Mrs. Stanbury. You mustn’t let yourself think such things. David’s wrapped up heart and soul in you, and if ’tisn’t his way to show all he feels, that’s only to say he’s a Bowden. They are built on that fashion. You must try and look at life more with his eyes. He’s a rare man and I envy him his tremendous power of sticking to a thing till he’s got through with it. His ideas are big, not little; I can see that, and you ought to see it. You and me are a bit too much alike there, and ’tis our luck not to be rated at our real value in consequence. But we mustn’t repay in the same coin. Because David don’t quite understand you, and Rhoda don’t understand me, we, who are nimbler-witted than them, mustn’t be cross. They may not see the truth of us and all the virtues that we’ve got--and we’ve both got a rare lot in my opinion--but we do see the truth of them, and so we must be patient with their characters." It was a new light to the woman, and she perceived the wisdom under his jesting manner. "If he’d only let me into his secrets!" she said.