"And that is to be a reason why you should leave him? You speak of your father as though he were no more to you than another man."
"I wouldn't a' borne not a tenth of it from no other man, Mr. Fenwick."
"Well—and what of that? Is there any measure of what is due by you to your father? Remember, Sam, I know your father well."
"You do, sir."
"He is a very just man, and he is very fond of you. You are the apple of his eye, and now you would bring his gray hairs with sorrow to the grave."
"You ask mother, sir, and she'll tell you how it is. I just said a word to him,—a word as was right to be said, and he turned upon me, and bade me go away and come back no more."
"Do you mean that he has banished you from the mill?"
"He said what I tells you. He told mother afterwards, that if so as I would promise never to mention that thing again, I might come and go as I pleased. But I wasn't going to make no such promise. I up and told him so; and then he—cursed me."
For a moment or two the Vicar was silent, thinking whether in this affair Sam had been most wrong, or the old man. Of course he was hearing but one side of the question. "What was it, Sam, that he forbade you to mention?"
"It don't matter now, sir; only I thought I'd better come and tell you, along of your being the bail, sir."