The squire’s face brightened when he saw the rector. “A ‘good-evening,’ parson. Thou thought I’d be in a bit o’ trouble to-night, didn’t ta?”
“I knew your kind heart, squire, and that it would be sad for Martha and Ben Craven to-night.”
“Ay, to be sure.” He had clasped Phyllis’s hand in one of his own, and turned round with the party; as he did so, drawing the rector’s attention by a significant glance to Elizabeth, who had fallen behind with Richard.
“I am very glad if that is the case, squire.”
“Ay, it pleases me, too. But about poor Martha, hev you seen her?”
“She wishes to be alone.”
“And no wonder. I’m sure I don’t know whativer must be done.”
“Perhaps the queen will have mercy.”
“Mercy! He’ll get a life sentence, if that is mercy. Hanging isn’t any better than its called, I’ll be bound; but if I was Ben, I’d a-deal rather be hung, and done wi’ it. That I would!”
“I think Ben Craven will yet be proved innocent. His mother is sure of it, uncle.”