"It were after I came back fro' my first voyage that I fell in love wi' Cousin Tremnell's girl."
"I know," said Meg softly. "Cousin Tremnell told me."
There was a long pause; then: "She ran away to another man," he said shortly. "An' I followed, being wistful to kill him, an' mad wi' the longing for her. He had come fro' London, I knew; so I went there an' walked about the streets looking for her all the day long; an' times I would strangle her an' I met her, an' times I would kiss her; but either way, he shouldna hold her ever again, nor should any other maid be th' worse for him. I hankered so after the open flats when I was hemmed in by that cursed town, that I used to wake mysel' o' nights fighting wi' the wall o' my room thinking an' I could knock it down I'd see God's world again the other side. I made my knuckles bleed, but the others thought it war drink, an' didn't interfere.
"It was like a nightmare, a horrible hell! But I'll go back there yet; there are souls to save there too; an' the Master is there: ay, even i' the lowest depth. It's a fearfu' place, Margaret; the very air o' London is foul wi' their iniquity; I was sick wi' the taste an' smell o' it. Well, I traced her at last, and found her dead; I saw her coffin.
"They buried her in a great waste o' graves; I disremember what they call it. I hid among the stones, being possessed like the man i' the Bible, and scared lest they should take me away; and after they shut the gates I crept out an' sat by the side of her.
"The soft slush o' mud hardened to ice in the night; but I was hot, not cold, an' I wondered whether she couldna feel me through all the new-turned-up earth. It seemed as if she must. I bided all through the darkness, for she were always scared o' being alone at dusk; an' when the day broke, I saw the Lord. He came in the early morning, walking over the mounds.
"At first I didna know Him. He was dim like a shadow, through the orange fog; but He called me by name, 'Barnabas, Barnabas!' and my soul leaped up; an' He came nearer an' stood by her grave, an' touched me; and the devil went out o' me; and I got up to follow Him, and to call all who I met to follow Him, who is the very God, till the day when I see Him again."
The preacher's breath came quickly while he told the story. It was real to him, as the ground he trod on; no one could listen to it and doubt that.
But, after a moment, he recovered himself and looked at her with a kindly smile.
"No one knows this but Him and you," he said. "Nor ever will! I told ye, because ye asked me, my lass; but doan't ye look sad; it war sixteen years ago, an' it war worth the pain."