the whole affair which I have been recounting, at the bottom of the pass.  The woman now took the horse by the head, and leading it with the cart into the open part of the dingle, turned both round, and then led them back, till the horse and cart had mounted a little way up the ascent; she then stood still and appeared to be expecting the man.  During this proceeding Belle had stood looking on without saying anything; at last, perceiving that the man had harnessed his horse to the other cart, and that both he and the woman were about to take their departure, she said, “You are not going, are you?” Receiving no answer, she continued:  “I tell you what, both of you, Black John, and you Moll, his mort, this is not treating me over civilly,—­however, I am ready to put up with it, and to go with you if you like, for I bear no malice.  I’m sorry for what has happened, but you have only yourselves to thank for it.  Now, shall I go with you? only tell me.”  The man made no manner of reply, but flogged his horse.  The woman, however, whose passions were probably under less control, replied, with a screeching tone, “Stay where you are, you jade, and may the curse of Judas cling to you,—­stay with the bit of a mullo {93a} whom you helped, and my only hope is that he may gulley {93b} you before he comes to be—­Have you with us, indeed! after what’s past, no, nor nothing belonging to you.  Fetch down your mailla {94a} go-cart and live here with your chabo.” {94b} She then whipped on the horse, and ascended the pass, followed by the man.  The carts were light, and they were not long in ascending the winding path.  I followed, to see that they took their departure.  Arriving at the top, I found near the entrance a small donkey-cart, which I concluded belonged to the girl.  The tinker and his mort were already at some distance; I stood looking after them for a little time, then taking the donkey by the reins I led it with the cart to the bottom of the dingle.  Arrived there, I found Belle seated on the stone by the fireplace.  Her hair was all dishevelled, and she was in tears.

“They were bad people,” said she, “and I did not like them, but they were my only acquaintance in the wide world.”

CHAPTER V.—­ISOPEL BERNERS:  A TALL GIRL OF EIGHTEEN, AND HER STORY.

In the evening of that same day the tall girl and I sat at tea by the fire, at the bottom of the dingle; the girl on a small stool, and myself, as usual, upon my stone.

The water which served for the tea had been taken from a spring of pellucid water in the neighbourhood, which I had not had the good fortune to discover, though it was well known to my companion, and to the wandering people who frequented the dingle.

“This tea is very good,” said I, “but I cannot enjoy it as much as if I were well:  I feel very sadly.”

“How else should you feel,” said the girl, “after fighting with the Flaming Tinman?  All I wonder is that you can feel at all!  As for the tea, it ought to be good, seeing that it cost me ten shillings a pound.”