“Aunt,” said Dinah, “I promise to come back to you in the winter if you’re ill.  Don’t think I will ever stay away from you if you’re in real want of me.  But, indeed, it is needful for my own soul that I should go away from this life of ease and luxury in which I have all things too richly to enjoy—­at least that I should go away for a short space.  No one can know but myself what are my inward needs, and the besetments I am most in danger from.  Your wish for me to stay is not a call of duty which I refuse to hearken to because it is against my own desires; it is a temptation that I must resist, lest the love of the creature should become like a mist in my soul shutting out the heavenly light.”

“It passes my cunning to know what you mean by ease and luxury,” said Mrs. Poyser, as she cut the bread and butter.  “It’s true there’s good victual enough about you, as nobody shall ever say I don’t provide enough and to spare, but if there’s ever a bit o’ odds an’ ends as nobody else ’ud eat, you’re sure to pick it out...but look there!  There’s Adam Bede a-carrying the little un in.  I wonder how it is he’s come so early.”

Mrs. Poyser hastened to the door for the pleasure of looking at her darling in a new position, with love in her eyes but reproof on her tongue.

“Oh for shame, Totty!  Little gells o’ five year old should be ashamed to be carried.  Why, Adam, she’ll break your arm, such a big gell as that; set her down—­for shame!”

“Nay, nay,” said Adam, “I can lift her with my hand—­I’ve no need to take my arm to it.”

Totty, looking as serenely unconscious of remark as a fat white puppy, was set down at the door-place, and the mother enforced her reproof with a shower of kisses.

“You’re surprised to see me at this hour o’ the day,” said Adam.

“Yes, but come in,” said Mrs. Poyser, making way for him; “there’s no bad news, I hope?”

“No, nothing bad,” Adam answered, as he went up to Dinah and put out his hand to her.  She had laid down her work and stood up, instinctively, as he approached her.  A faint blush died away from her pale cheek as she put her hand in his and looked up at him timidly.

“It’s an errand to you brought me, Dinah,” said Adam, apparently unconscious that he was holding her hand all the while; “mother’s a bit ailing, and she’s set her heart on your coming to stay the night with her, if you’ll be so kind.  I told her I’d call and ask you as I came from the village.  She overworks herself, and I can’t persuade her to have a little girl t’ help her.  I don’t know what’s to be done.”

Adam released Dinah’s hand as he ceased speaking, and was expecting an answer, but before she had opened her lips Mrs. Poyser said, “Look there now!  I told you there was folks enow t’ help i’ this parish, wi’out going further off.  There’s Mrs. Bede getting as old and cas’alty as can be, and she won’t let anybody but you go a-nigh her hardly.  The folks at Snowfield have learnt by this time to do better wi’out you nor she can.”