The pantry window.

Stephen had been engaged in his new calling for about a fortnight, and was coming home, after a long and toilsome day among the flocks, two hours after sunset, with a keen east wind bringing the tears into his eyes, when a few paces from his cabin door a tall dark figure sprang up from a hollow in the cinder-hill, and laid a heavy hand upon his shoulder.  It was just light enough to discern the gloomy features of Black Thompson; and Stephen inquired fearlessly what he wanted with him.

‘I thought thee’d never be coming,’ said Black Thompson impatiently.  ’Lad, hast thee forgotten thy rights and thy wrongs, that thou comes to yonder wretched kennel whistling as if all the land belonged to thee?  Where’s thy promise to thy father, that thee’d never give up thy rights?  Jackson the butcher has taken Fern’s Hollow, and it’s to be finished up in a week or two; and thee’lt see thy own place go into the hands of strangers.’

‘It’ll all be put right some day, Thompson, thank you,’ said Stephen.

‘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.’