“It wear bad—’tarnel bad; though the man mout not be guilty for all o’ thet, ez he wear not seen to do the woman any harm; an’ the evidence air all what they call suckumstantial. Thus it wear, in a nutshell: night afore last he wear seen to meet her on the old bridge ez crosses the herrin’-brook, beyond the parsture to the suth’ard o’ Parson Greenleaf’s ten-acre lot. She wear obsarved to be waitin’ there for a long time afore he come—John Jenkins’s son seen her; an’ bein’ supplied with more natural curosity than air gen’rally ’lowed to a male, an’ wonderin’ what she wear doin’ out there all alone, he kind o’ hung round to see. She mout hev been there a half-hour, when Paul Gramley come hurryin’ across the fields an’ jined her. They hed some sharp words—leastwise so young Jenkins says; an’ arter awhile they walked off together. Thet air nuthin’ in itself; any two air prone to hev hard words at some time or ’nuther; but, ez ye all know, the next mornin’ the parson’s darter, Hetty Greenleaf, wear missin’, an’ a sarch high an’ low didn’t reveal her. Then young Jenkins come to the front with his story; an’ on the strength o’ thet Paul Gramley wear arrested an’ examined, bein’ ez it wear that he wear the last pusson ez is known to hev seen her.”
“It hev a dark look, Nathan,” remarked Seth, as the narrator paused long enough to dip into the rusty tin pail for another worm.
“Aye, it hev so. But Paul Gramley declares thet he left her not a hun’ed feet from her own door, an’ jest ez the village clock wear strikin’ nine. An’ he swears thet the last he see of her she wear movin’ slowly toward the house; but the parson, on the other hand, claims thet she wear not in the house arter seven o’clock—an’ the parson’s word air ez reliable ez the gospel. An’ thet air the evidence agin Paul Gramley; an’ he air detained pendin’ the investigation.”
“Ez I obsarved afore, it hev a dark look,” muttered Seth, shaking the water from his “bob,” and turning in his seat to gaze earnestly in the direction of the Point, toward which they were drifting.
“Nathan, what air your opinion?” asked Abram Skellet, leaning upon the oars. “You air putty well acquainted with young Gramley.”
“Aye, Abe, so I be; for he hev boarded at my wife’s house ever since he come to this ’ere town, twelve months agone. He air a hot-headed young buck, an’ one ez is prone to gay company, an’ the like o’ thet; but, harkee to me—he hev a heart in his bosom ez big ez the heart of an ox, an’ ez soft ez a woman’s; an’ he loved Hetty Greenleaf; every throb o’ thet great heart o’ his beat for her; an’ the man ez says he harmed a hair o’ her head, lies, boys! I tell ye, he lies! for I know ’twan’t in him!”
And the wrinkled old man, loud in his vehemence, brought his brawny fist down upon the thwart beside him with a blow that made the old boat quiver from stem to stern.
And the eyes of the child opened wider.
“What do Paul Gramley say hisself?” asked Seth, with a nod of approval.
“Nary a word, save to say that he air innocent o’ meanin’ her harm. I know how he loved her, lads, for I hev obsarved him, when he thought he wear alone by hisself; all the love in his heart wear given to her. He air a stranger among us, an’ little enough we know about him or his; but when a man hev lived under my roof for a year, I calkerlate thet I larn suthin’ about him; an’ I tell ye, boys, thet Paul Gramley air a better man to-day than them ez hints at him ez Hetty Greenleaf’s murderer—if so be she air dead, which no one knows. He wear a young man yesterday, full o’ life an’ hope; to-day he air old an’ broken—more so than years o’ wind and weather would a done; for his heart air turned to ice—an’ I know it.”