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 "I've no trouble now, sir, that can be shared or mended. It's only the memory of one, and I shall tell it to nobody," she said, with decision. "I've taken it to heart badly so far, but I'm feeling better since I heard what you said yesterday. I've thought that over, and I believe one thing—the wicked shall be found out."

She uttered these words with such an expression of fervent hope, not unmixed with something like hate, that Hepworth could only remain silent and wondering. She went out of the barn, and in another moment he heard her singing as she crossed the fold.

Hepworth sat up late that night reading in his parlour, and when he went to bed the house was silent and dark. As he gained the head of the staircase and turned into the long passage that ran the length of the house, he was attracted by a gleam of light that came from a doorway. He walked down the passage towards it, thinking that someone had forgotten to turn out a lamp. He came to