'Right!' repeated Thompson; 'who's to put wrong things right if we won't take the trouble ourselves? Is it right for the master to grind us down in our wages, and raise the rents over our heads, till we can scarcely get enough to keep us in victuals, just that he may add money to money to count over of nights? Was it right of him to leave the pit yonder open, till little Nan was killed in it? Thee has a heavy reckoning to settle with him, and I'd be wiping off some of the score. If I was in thy place, I should have little Nan's voice calling me day and night from the pit, to ask when I was going to revenge her.'
Black Thompson felt that Stephen trembled under his grasp, and he went on with greater earnestness.
'Thee could revenge thyself this very night. Thee could get the worth of Fern's Hollow without a risk, if thee'd listen to me. It's thy own, lad, and thy wrongs are heavy—Fern's Hollow stolen from thee, and the little lass murdered! How canst thee rest, Stephen?'
'God will repay,' said Stephen in a tremulous tone.
'Dost think that God sees?' asked Black Thompson scoffingly; 'if He sees, He doesn't care. What does it matter to Him that poor folks like us are trodden down and robbed? If He cared, He could strike the master dead in a moment, and He doesn't. He lets him prosper and prosper, till nobody can stand afore him. I'd take my own matter in my own hands, and make sure of vengeance. God doesn't take any notice.'
'I'm sure God sees,' answered Stephen; 'He is everywhere; and He isn't blind, or deaf, only we don't understand what He is going to do yet. If He didn't take any notice of us, He wouldn't make me feel so happy, spite of everything. Oh, Thompson thee and the men were so kind to me when I couldn't work, and I've never seen thee to thank thee. I can do nothing for thee, except I could persuade thee to repent, and be as happy as I am.'
'Oh, I'll repent some day,' said Black Thompson, loosing Stephen's arm; 'but I've lots of things to do aforehand, and I reckon they can all be repented of together. So, lad, it's true what everybody is saying of thee—thee has forgotten poor little Nan, and thy promise to thy father!'
'No, I've never forgotten,' replied Stephen, 'but I'll never try to revenge myself now. I couldn't if I did try. Besides, I've forgiven the master; so don't speak to me again about it, Thompson.'
'Well, lad, be sure I'll never waste my time thinking of thee again,' said Black Thompson, with an oath; 'thy religion has made a poor, spiritless, cowardly chap of thee, and I've done with thee altogether.'
Black Thompson strode away into the darkness, and was quickly out of hearing, while Stephen stood still and listened to his rapid footsteps, turning over in his mind what mischief he wished to tempt him to now. The open shaft was only a few feet from him; but it had been safely encircled by a high iron railing, instead of being bricked over, as it had been found of use in the proper ventilation of the pit. From Thompson and his temptation, Stephen's thoughts went swiftly to little Nan, and how he had heard her calling to him upon that dreadful night when he went away with the poachers. Was it possible that he could forget her for a single day? Was she not still one of his most constant and most painful thoughts? Yes, he could remember every pretty look of her face, and every sweet sound of her voice; yet they were saying he had forgotten her, while the pit was there for him to pass night and morning—a sorrowful reminder of her dreadful death! A sharp thrill ran through Stephen's frame as his outstretched hand caught one of the iron railings, which rattled in its socket; but his very heart stood still when up from the dark, narrow depths there came a low and stifled cry of 'Stephen! Stephen!'