“Yea, Lord, I see thee, coming through the darkness coming, like the morning, with healing on thy wings.  The marks of thy agony are upon thee—­I see, I see thou art able and willing to save—­thou wilt not let her perish for ever.  Come, mighty Saviour!  Let the dead hear thy voice.  Let the eyes of the blind be opened.  Let her see that God encompasses her.  Let her tremble at nothing but at the sin that cuts her off from him.  Melt the hard heart.  Unseal the closed lips:  make her cry with her whole soul, ’Father, I have sinned.’...”

“Dinah,” Hetty sobbed out, throwing her arms round Dinah’s neck, “I will speak...I will tell...I won’t hide it any more.”

But the tears and sobs were too violent.  Dinah raised her gently from her knees and seated her on the pallet again, sitting down by her side.  It was a long time before the convulsed throat was quiet, and even then they sat some time in stillness and darkness, holding each other’s hands.  At last Hetty whispered, “I did do it, Dinah...I buried it in the wood...the little baby...and it cried...I heard it cry...ever such a way off...all night...and I went back because it cried.”

She paused, and then spoke hurriedly in a louder, pleading tone.

“But I thought perhaps it wouldn’t die—­there might somebody find it.  I didn’t kill it—­I didn’t kill it myself.  I put it down there and covered it up, and when I came back it was gone....It was because I was so very miserable, Dinah...I didn’t know where to go...and I tried to kill myself before, and I couldn’t.  Oh, I tried so to drown myself in the pool, and I couldn’t.  I went to Windsor—­I ran away—­did you know?  I went to find him, as he might take care of me; and he was gone; and then I didn’t know what to do.  I daredn’t go back home again—­I couldn’t bear it.  I couldn’t have bore to look at anybody, for they’d have scorned me.  I thought o’ you sometimes, and thought I’d come to you, for I didn’t think you’d be cross with me, and cry shame on me.  I thought I could tell you.  But then the other folks ’ud come to know it at last, and I couldn’t bear that.  It was partly thinking o’ you made me come toward Stoniton; and, besides, I was so frightened at going wandering about till I was a beggar-woman, and had nothing; and sometimes it seemed as if I must go back to the farm sooner than that.  Oh, it was so dreadful, Dinah...I was so miserable...I wished I’d never been born into this world.  I should never like to go into the green fields again—­I hated ’em so in my misery.”

Hetty paused again, as if the sense of the past were too strong upon her for words.