The young carter stood quite silent.  His blue blouse glimmered white in the darkness and flapped a little in the wind, but he stood still as a rock, with his strong arms crossed upon his breast, and the silence seemed filled with the expression of thoughts for which words would have been useless.  It was evident that her strong emotion had brought to his mind a conviction of the truth of her words which could not have been conveyed by the words alone.  So they stood there, he and she, in all the rugged power of physical strength, confronted with their life’s problem.  At last, after they had been silent a long time, and it seemed that he had said many things, and that she had answered him, he appeared suddenly to sum up his thoughts to their conclusion, and stretched out both his strong arms to take her and all her griefs into his heart.  It seemed in the darkness as though he did clasp her and did not, for she gave a low terrible cry and fled from him—­a cry such as a spirit might give who, having ascended to Heaven’s gate with toil and prayer, falls backward into Hell; and she ran from him—­it seemed that with only her human strength she could not have fled so fast.  He followed her, dashing with all his strength into the darkness.  They went towards the village, and in the mud their footfalls were almost silent.

The listener came out of his hiding and went back on the road by which he had come.

CHAPTER III

Next morning Skelton travelled northward to Yarm.  After some difficulty he succeeded in discovering the paralytic whom he sought.  The medical interest which had at first been aroused by the case appeared to have died away; and it was only after some time spent in interviewing officials that he at last found the man, Daniel McGair.  A parish apothecary had him in charge.  The apothecary was a coarse good-natured fellow, one of that class of ignorant men upon whose brains the dregs of a refined agnosticism have settled down in the form of arrogant assumption.  He had enough knowledge of the external matters of science to know, upon receiving Skelton’s card, that he was receiving a visitor of distinction.  ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, leading the way out of the dispensary, ’I’ll exhibit the case.  I don’t know that there’s much that’s remarkable about it.  Of course, to us who take an interest in science, all these things are interesting in their way.’

It was quite clear he did not know in what way the most special interest accrued to this case.

’No sir, he ain’t in the Union; he saved, and bought his cottage before his stroke, so that’s where he is.  He ain’t got no kith or kin, as far as we know.’

It was bright noonday when they walked through the narrow streets of mean houses, passing among the numerous children which swarm in such localities.  The sun was shining, the children were shouting, the women were gossiping at their doors, when the apothecary stopped at a low one-roomed cottage, the home of Daniel McGair.  He opened the door with a key and went in, as though the house were empty.