“I was lookin’ at the child this mornin’, and d—— me, if I think it’s the same child we left there!” said Harry.
“Why, sir—Mr. Harry, what’s this?”
“I say I misdoubt it’s not the same child, and ye must come over and look at it. Don’t ye say a word o’ the matter to no one; no more did I; if you do we’ll never come to the bottom of it.”
“My good Lord!” exclaimed old Mildred, turning paler, and frowning very hard.
“I won’t stop. I won’t eat anything. I can’t delay to-night; my nag’s by the bridle, there, beside the scales, and—any message to Wykeford? I’ll be passing Willett’s house.”
“Well! well!” repeated Mildred, gaping at him still, with scarcely a breath left her, “sin is sin, be it seen or no; judgment follows. God has feet o’ wool and hands o’ iron.”
“Sweep before your own door, lass; ye’re a bit daft, bain’t ye?” said Harry, with a sudden glare in his face.
“God forgive us all!”
“Amen,” said Harry.
And there came a pause.