Chapter 3 - Page 2

first, I'll give my Maker no peace till
he brings the guilty to justice, and sets t' innocent in t' leet o'
his countenance."

"'The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence,' Martha, 'and the violent
take it by force.' Don't get weary. Christ had a mother, and he loved
her. Does he not love her still?"

"Thank you, sir, for that word. I'll be sure and remind him o' her.
I'd forget that there was iver any mother but me; or any son but my
son." "Say a word for all other weeping mothers. Think of them, Martha,
all over the world, rich and poor, Christian and heathen. How many
mothers' hearts are breaking to-day. You are not alone, Martha. A great
company are waiting and weeping with you. Don't be afraid to ask for
them, too. There is no limit to God's love and power."

"I'll pray for ivery one o' them, sir."

"Do, Martha, and you'll get under a higher sky. It's a good thing to
pray for ourselves; it's a far grander thing to pray for others. God
bless you, sister, and give you an answer of peace."

Very shortly after this conversation one of those singular changes
in public opinion, which cannot be accounted for, began to manifest
itself. After Clough's positive dying declaration, it was hardly to
be expected that his daughter Mary could show any kindness to her old
lover, Ben Craven. But week after week went by, and people saw that
she positively refused to speak to Bill Laycock, and that she shrank
even from his passing shadow, and they began to look queerly at the
man. It amounted at first to nothing more than that; but as a mist
creeps over the landscape, and gradually possesses it altogether, so
this chill, adverse atmosphere enfolded him. He noticed that old
acquaintances dropped away from him; men went three miles farther off
to get a shoe put on a horse. No one could have given a clear reason
for doing so, and one man did not ask another man "why?" but the fact
needed no reasoning about. It was there. At the harvest festivals the
men drew away from him, and the girls would not have him for a partner
in any rural game. He was asked to resign his place in the knur club,
and if he joined any cricket eleven, the match fell to the ground.

One September evening Elizabeth and Phyllis went to the village to
leave a little basket of dainties in Martha's cottage. They now seldom
saw her, she was usually in the chapel; but they knew she was grateful
for the food, and it had become all they could do for her in the hard
struggle she was having. The trees were growing bare; the flowers were
few and without scent; the birds did not sing any more, but were shy,
and twittered and complained, while the swallows were restless, like