“I’ve never forgived myself, nor never shall.”
There was a silence.
“Well, if you’ll keep off this here place an’ go round by the old stones there, I’ll thank you. I take a pride in the burying-ground, as be well known. The graves be wife and children to me. If you’ll look around at other churchyards, you’ll see there ban’t one this side of Plymouth that’s so trim and tidy as this.”
“It’s well known; people comes from long ways off to see it. I’ll be careful in future not to do harm.”
She turned, and followed the road that he pointed out. Then she put fresh water in a jam-pot, and arranged the columbines upon a little mound of sickly turf. Hard by his scythe began its measured rhythm in the heart of the green grass.
CHAPTER V
The light took a golden tincture before dusk, and nature rested. Mellow sunshine cast long shadows, interspersed with a tender radiance; the cottages and house-places were still; and peace brooded over hamlet and homestead, for the day’s work was done.
The 10th of July sank to lovely close, and through a blue dusk one window glimmered on the confines of the village.
Toward it walked a man, and in his pocket he carried a little parcel. Once he hesitated, and seemed disposed to hurl his gift into the hedge and return whence he came. But he held on, and presently reached the cottage door and knocked at it.
“Might I come in an’ have a tell, Mrs. Thorn?” he asked in a deep voice.