'I wish I'd been theere! I wish I could do him an ill turn,' sighed
she, with some kind of expression on her face that made Kester quail
a little.
'Nay, lass! he'll get it fra' others. Niver fret thysel' about sich
rubbish. A'n done ill to speak on him.' 'No! thou hasn't. Then as was friends o' father's I'll love for iver
and iver; them as helped for t' hang him' (she shuddered from head
to foot--a sharp irrepressible shudder!) 'I'll niver forgive--niver!' 'Niver's a long word,' said Kester, musingly. 'A could horsewhip
him, or cast stones at him, or duck him mysel'; but, lass! niver's a
long word!' 'Well! niver heed if it is--it's me as said it, and I'm turned
savage late days. Come in, Kester, and see poor mother.' 'A cannot,' said he, turning his wrinkled puckered face away, that
she might not see the twitchings of emotion on it. 'There's kine to
be fetched up, and what not, and he's theere, isn't he, Sylvie?'
facing round upon her with inquisitiveness. Under his peering eyes
she reddened a little.
'Yes, if it's Philip thou means; he's been all we've had to look to
sin'.' Again the shudder.
'Well, now he'll be seein' after his shop, a reckon?' Sylvia was calling to the old mare nibbling tufts of early-springing
grass here and there, and half unconsciously coaxing the creature to
come up to the gate to be stroked. But she heard Kester's words well
enough, and so he saw, although she made this excuse not to reply.
But Kester was not to be put off.
'Folks is talkin' about thee and him; thou'll ha' to mind lest thee
and him gets yo'r names coupled together.' 'It's right down cruel on folks, then,' said she, crimsoning from
some emotion. 'As if any man as was a man wouldn't do all he could
for two lone women at such a time--and he a cousin, too! Tell me who
said so,' continued she, firing round at Kester, 'and I'll niver
forgive 'em--that's all.' 'Hoots!' said Kester, a little conscious that he himself was the
principal representative of that name of multitude folk. 'Here's a
pretty lass; she's' got "a'll niver forgi'e" at her tongue's end wi'
a vengeance.' Sylvia was a little confused.
'Oh, Kester, man,' said she, 'my heart is sore again' every one, for
feyther's sake.' And at length the natural relief of plentiful tears came; and
Kester, with instinctive wisdom, let her weep undisturbed; indeed,
he cried not a little himself. They were interrupted by Philip's
voice from the back-door.
'Sylvie, your mother's awake, and wants you!' 'Come, Kester, come,' and taking hold of him she drew him with her
into the house.