"Not Adam? He don't storm against nothing."
"No—t'other. My old friend. He ain't through the wood by a long way yet, Amelia. His thoughts and griefs crowd down on him like a flock of foul birds, and shake the roots of his life something shocking."
"'Tis well if the Lord's Hand is heavy," she answered.
"So it should be, if there's justice in the world."
"Try to think kindly on the man. He's suffered much."
"I live with Adam Winter," she answered and went her way.
CHAPTER VI
THE CHILDREN
Accident sometimes invoked a strange spectre of the old jealousy in Jacob Bullstone—that quiddity of his nature responsible for his ruin. It flashed now—a feeble glimmer of the ancient emotion—and involved Auna. She alone in his opinion cared any longer for him, or felt interest in his fortunes; therefore he was quick to resent any real, or fancied, attempts on the part of others to weaken the bonds between them. Such a task had in truth been impossible, yet there came hints to his ear that the girl should not be dragged with him into the fastness of the moor. He had to some extent lost sight of her natural demands and requirements. He little liked her to be overmuch interested in affairs that no longer concerned himself; but she was intelligent in this matter and, helped by advice, kept in closer touch with her relations than Jacob knew. With her grandmother Auna had indeed broken, for Judith declined to see her any more, and the younger did not pretend sorrow; but with Barlow Huxam, and with her Uncle Jeremy and Aunt Jane, she preserved a friendship they did not report to Mrs. Huxam; while despite harsh sayings against them from her father, Auna continued to love John Henry and Avis. She was loyal, would not hear a word against Jacob, and set him always first. She regarded the coming life at Huntingdon as no ordeal, but a change of infinite promise, because it might bring him nearer peace. Meantime, behind Bullstone's back others were busy in hope to change his plans, and these alternatives were placed before him by his children.
The occasion found him fretful after a period of comparative contentment. He was unaware that time cannot stand still, and in the usual parental fashion continued to regard his family as anchored to childhood. He was smarting under grievances on a day that he met Adam Winter and walked with him from Brent to Shipley.