Their visit was the only break in the long weary days and nights.  I do not mean that no other inquiries were made.  I believe that all the neighbours hung about the place daily till they could learn from some out-comer how Phillis Holman was.  But they knew better than to come up to the house, for the August weather was so hot that every door and window was kept constantly open, and the least sound outside penetrated all through.  I am sure the cocks and hens had a sad time of it; for Betty drove them all into an empty barn, and kept them fastened up in the dark for several days, with very little effect as regarded their crowing and clacking.  At length came a sleep which was the crisis, and from which she wakened up with a new faint life.  Her slumber had lasted many, many hours.  We scarcely dared to breathe or move during the time; we had striven to hope so long, that we were sick at heart, and durst not trust in the favourable signs:  the even breathing, the moistened skin, the slight return of delicate colour into the pale, wan lips.  I recollect stealing out that evening in the dusk, and wandering down the grassy lane, under the shadow of the over-arching elms to the little bridge at the foot of the hill, where the lane to the Hope Farm joined another road to Hornby.  On the low parapet of that bridge I found Timothy Cooper, the stupid, half-witted labourer, sitting, idly throwing bits of mortar into the brook below.  He just looked up at me as I came near, but gave me no greeting either by word or gesture.  He had generally made some sign’ of recognition to me, but this time I thought he was sullen at being dismissed.  Nevertheless I felt as if it would be a relief to talk a little to some one, and I sate down by him.  While I was thinking how to begin, he yawned weariedly.

‘You are tired, Tim?’ said I.

‘Ay,’ said he.  ‘But I reckon I may go home now.’  ’Have you been sitting here long?’

‘Welly all day long.  Leastways sin’ seven i’ th’ morning.’  ’Why, what in the world have you been doing?’ ‘Nought.’

‘Why have you been sitting here, then?’

‘T’ keep carts off.’  He was up now, stretching himself, and shaking his lubberly limbs.

‘Carts! what carts?’

‘Carts as might ha’ wakened yon wench!  It’s Hornby market day.  I reckon yo’re no better nor a half-wit yoursel’.’  He cocked his eye at me as if he were gauging my intellect.

‘And have you been sitting here all day to keep the lane quiet?’

‘Ay.  I’ve nought else to do.  Th’ minister has turned me adrift.  Have yo’ heard how th’ lass is faring to-night?’

’They hope she’ll waken better for this long sleep.  Good night to you, and God bless you, Timothy,’ said I.