These sentences sounded up into Stephen’s ears, one by one, slowly, as Tim could give his voice its due tone and strength.  He recollected instantly all the long oppression the men had suffered from their master.  In that distant part of the county, where there were extensive works, the colliers had been striking for larger wages; and some of them had strolled down to Botfield, bringing with them an increase of discontent and inquietude, which had taken deep root in the minds of all the workpeople.  It was well known that the master kept large sums of money in his house, which, as I have told you, was situated among lonely fields, nearly a mile from Botfield; and no one lived with him, except Miss Anne, and one maid-servant.  It was a very secure building, with stone casements and strongly barred doors; but if a boy could get through the pantry window, he could admit the others readily.  How long it would be before the attempt was made Stephen could not tell, but it was already late, and Black Thompson had left him hurriedly.  But at least it must be an hour or two nearer midnight, and all hopes of rescue and defence rested upon him and Martha only.

Martha was sitting by the fire knitting, and Bess Thompson was pinning on her shawl to go home.  Poor Bess!  Even in his excitement Stephen felt for her; but he dared not utter a word till she was gone.  But then Martha could not credit his hurried tidings and directions, until she had been herself to the shaft to see the feeble gleam of Tim’s lamp, and hear the sound of his voice; for as soon as she rattled the railings he spoke again.

‘Be sharp!’ he cried.  ’I’m not afeared; but I can’t stay here where little Nan died.  I’ll go back to the pit, and wait till morning.  Be sharp!’

There was no need after that to urge Martha to hasten.  After throwing a shawl over her head, she started off for Longville with the swiftness of a hare; and was soon past the engine-house, and threading her way cautiously through Botfield, where she dreaded to be discovered as she passed the lighted windows, or across the gleam of some open door.  Many of the houses were quite closed up and dark, but in some there was a voice of talking; and here and there Martha saw a figure stealing like herself along the deepest shadows.  But she escaped without being noticed; and, once through the village, her path lay along the silent high-roads straight on to Longville.

Nor did Stephen linger in the cinder-hill cabin.  He ran swiftly over the pit-banks, and stole along by the limekilns and the blacksmith’s shop, for under the heavy door he could see a little fringe of light.  How loudly the dry cinders cranched under his careful footsteps!  Yet, quiet as the blacksmith’s shop was, and soundless as the night without, the noise did not reach the ears of those who were lurking within, and Stephen went on in safety.  There stood the master’s house at last, black and massive-looking against the dark sky; not a gleam