"I would he were with the rebels. I hope he will be so healed, and that speedily, that he may join them, and then he will be taken and hung as a traitor. I' faith, I would like to be there! I would give a bag of gold to be there--to see Anthony Cleverdon hung. I'd sit down on the next stone and eat my bread and cheese, and throw the crusts and the rinds in his face as he hung.--The traitor!" An hour later there came a tap at the door of Willsworthy. Uncle Sol opened, and Bessie Cleverdon entered, pale. She asked to see her grandmother, Mistress Penwarne, who was still there. "I am come," she said, "to relieve you. Go back to Luke, and I will tarry with Urith. Luke must need you, and I can take your place here. I will not lay my head under the roof of Hall whilst Fox is there. It is true that I promised this day to love and obey him, but I promised what I cannot perform. He has forfeited every right over me! Till he leaves Hall I remain here--with Urith--both unhappy--maybe we shall understand each other. My poor father! My poor father! I cannot remain with him whilst Fox is there!" CHAPTER LI. ON THE CLEAVE AGAIN. Ever full of pity and love for others, and forgetfulness of self, Bessie sat holding Urith's hand in her own, with her eyes fixed compassionately on her sister-in-law. Urith's condition was perplexing. It was hard to say whether the events of that night when she saw Anthony struck down on the hearthstone, and her subsequent and consequent illness, with the premature confinement and the death of the child, had deranged her faculties, or whether she was merely stunned by this succession of events. Always with a tendency in her to moodiness, she had now lapsed into a condition of silent brooding. She would sit the whole day in one position, crouched with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, looking fixedly before her, and saying nothing: taking no notice of anything said or done near her. It almost seemed as though she had fallen into a condition of melancholy madness, and yet, when spoken to, she would answer, and answer intelligently. Her faculties were present, unimpaired, but crushed under the overwhelming weight of the past. Only on one point did she manifest any signs of hallucination. She believed that Anthony was dead, and nothing that was said to her could induce her to change her conviction. She believed that everyone was in league to deceive her on this point. And yet, though sane, she had to be watched, for in her absence of mind and internal fever of distress, she would put her hands into her mouth, and bite the knuckles, apparently unconscious of pain. Mrs. Penwarne, who was usually with her, would quietly remove her hands from her mouth, and hold them down. Then Urith would look at her with a strange, questioning expression, release her hands, and resting the elbows on her knees, thrust the fingers into her hair.