The carrier's eyes were shining with an expression his friends had never before seen them wear. He had been swept away by the force and fervour of his words, and like one who has been breathing of a rarer atmosphere than that of the plain, he gasped for several moments, and then there was a sob in his throat. He went quickly to the door and, letting into the room the sudden glow of a beautiful Spring sunset, he passed into the open air, without speaking another word.
CHAPTER II
No one in the room had watched the man except in a furtive way, after he had spoken, although while he was speaking every eye had been fixed upon him. The sight of the effect of a great emotion makes some people feel strangely abashed, and the miller and his friends were among such persons. When the carrier had gone they remained silent for some time. Each of them seemed to be thinking his thoughts.
“Poor Jake!” said the miller at last. “He was ever the sort of man that would be like to have a twist, and he hath got one now. He's made us forget the cider, lads. Blest if the jug has been touched since Jake began his story! Hal, man, pass the jug to your neighbour.'Tis Jake that should have swallowed a mouthful before he left: talking is drouthier work than listening.”
The smith passed on the jug of cider without replenishing his own mug; and then knocked the ashes out of the bowl of his pipe.
“I don't know that there's a deal in all this,” he remarked. “What do you say, miller?”
“I don't say nought: I only looks on,” replied the miller cautiously.
“Ay, that may be,” said the smith. “We all know Jake. He never wronged his fellow—nay, there's some of us knows that if the worst came to the worst with us, Jake 'ud be the first to hold out a helping hand, with a guinea or two in it, as the case may be. Still there may be something in what he said about being brought to feel himself a miserable sinner.”