‘It’s a queer kind o’ story,’ said Kester, meditatively.  ’A should ha’ thought as Philip were more likely to ha’ gi’en him a shove into t’ thick on it, than t’ help him out o’ t’ scrape.’

‘Nay!’ said Sylvia, suddenly looking straight at Kester; ’yo’re out theere.  Philip had a deal o’ good in him.  And I dunnot think as he’d ha’ gone and married another woman so soon, if he’d been i’ Kinraid’s place.’

‘An’ yo’ve niver heared on Philip sin’ he left?’ asked Kester, after a while.

‘Niver; nought but what she told me.  And she said that t’ captain made inquiry for him right and left, as soon after that happened as might be, and could hear niver a word about him.  No one had seen him, or knowed his name.’

‘Yo’ niver heared of his goin’ for t’ be a soldier?’ persevered Kester.

‘Niver.  I’ve told yo’ once.  It were unlike Philip to think o’ such a thing.’

‘But thou mun ha’ been thinkin’ on him at times i’ a’ these years.  Bad as he’d behaved hissel’, he were t’ feyther o’ thy little un.  What did ta think he had been agait on when he left here?’

’I didn’t know.  I were noane so keen a-thinking on him at first.  I tried to put him out o’ my thoughts a’together, for it made me like mad to think how he’d stood between me and—­that other.  But I’d begun to wonder and to wonder about him, and to think I should like to hear as he were doing well.  I reckon I thought he were i’ London, wheere he’d been that time afore, yo’ know, and had allays spoke as if he’d enjoyed hissel’ tolerable; and then Molly Brunton told me on t’ other one’s marriage; and, somehow, it gave me a shake in my heart, and I began for to wish I hadn’t said all them words i’ my passion; and then that fine young lady come wi’ her story—­and I’ve thought a deal on it since,—­and my mind has come out clear.  Philip’s dead, and it were his spirit as come to t’ other’s help in his time o’ need.  I’ve heard feyther say as spirits cannot rest i’ their graves for trying to undo t’ wrongs they’ve done i’ their bodies.’

‘Them’s my conclusions,’ said Kester, solemnly.  ’A was fain for to hear what were yo’r judgments first; but them’s the conclusions I comed to as soon as I heard t’ tale.’

‘Let alone that one thing,’ said Sylvia, ‘he were a kind, good man.’

‘It were a big deal on a “one thing”, though,’ said Kester.  ’It just spoilt yo’r life, my poor lass; an’ might ha’ gone near to spoilin’ Charley Kinraid’s too.’

‘Men takes a deal more nor women to spoil their lives,’ said Sylvia, bitterly.

‘Not a’ mak’ o’ men.  I reckon, lass, Philip’s life were pretty well on for bein’ spoilt at after he left here; and it were, mebbe, a good thing he got rid on it so soon.’

‘I wish I’d just had a few kind words wi’ him, I do,’ said Sylvia, almost on the point of crying.

‘Come, lass, it’s as ill moanin’ after what’s past as it ’ud be for me t’ fill my eyes wi’ weepin’ after t’ humbugs as this little wench o’ thine has grubbed up whilst we’n been talkin’.  Why, there’s not one on ’em left!’