In these assertions Mr. Churchouse saw a wakening dawn, but Mary Dinnett declared otherwise.  The man was widening the gap; his original idea, that Sabina should live with him, had dearly been abandoned.

Then the contradictions of human nature appeared, and Mary, who had been the first to declare her deep indignation at Raymond’s cynical proposal, began to weaken and even wonder if Sabina had done wisely not to discuss that matter.

“Not that ever you should have done it,” she hastened to add; “but if you’d been a bit crafty and not ruled it out altogether, you might have built on it and got friendly again and gradually worked him back to his duty.”

Then Mr. Churchouse protested, in the name of righteousness, while she argued that God helps those that help themselves, and that wickedness should be opposed with craft.  Sabina listened to them helplessly and her last hope died out.

CHAPTER XXVI

OF HUMAN NATURE

Nicholas Roberts drove his lathes in a lofty chamber separated by wooden walls from the great central activities of the spinning mill.  Despite the flying sparks from his emery wheels, he always kept a portrait of Sarah Northover before him; and certain pictures of notable sportsmen also hung with Sarah above the benches whereon Nicholas pursued his task.  His work was to put a fresh face on the wooden reels and rollers that formed a part of the machines; for running hemp or flax will groove the toughest wood in time, and so ruin the control of the rollers and spoil the thread.

The wood curled away like paper before the teeth of the lathes, and the chisels of these, in their turn, had often to be set upon spinning stones.  It was noisy work, and Nicholas now stopped his grindstone that he might hear his own voice and that of Mr. Best, who came suddenly into the shop.

The foreman spoke of some new wood for roller turning.

“It should be here this week,” he said.  “I told them we were running short.  You may expect a good batch of plane and beech by Thursday.”

They discussed the work of Roberts and presently turned to the paramount question in every mind at the Mill.  All naturally desired to know when Raymond Ironsyde would make his appearance and what would happen when he did so; but while some, having regard for his conduct, felt he would not dare to appear again himself, others believed that one so insensible to honesty and decency would be indifferent to all opinions entertained of him.  Such suspected that the criticisms of Bridetown would be too unimportant to trouble the new master.

And it seemed that they were right, for now came Ernest Churchouse seeking Mr. Best.  He looked into the turning-shop, saw John and entered.

“He’s coming next week, but perhaps you know it,” he began.  “And if you haven’t heard, be sure you will at any moment.”