tell him ne’er to mind th’ ill words I’ve gi’en him sometimes when I war angered, an’ to gi’ him a bit an’ a sup, as long as a bit an’ a sup he’d swallow.  But eh!  To die i’ the cold water, an’ us close to him, an’ ne’er to know; an’ me a-sleepin’, as if I ne’er belonged to him no more nor if he’d been a journeyman tramp from nobody knows where!”

Here Lisbeth began to cry and rock herself again; and Dinah said, “Yes, dear friend, your affliction is great.  It would be hardness of heart to say that your trouble was not heavy to bear.  God didn’t send me to you to make light of your sorrow, but to mourn with you, if you will let me.  If you had a table spread for a feast, and was making merry with your friends, you would think it was kind to let me come and sit down and rejoice with you, because you’d think I should like to share those good things; but I should like better to share in your trouble and your labour, and it would seem harder to me if you denied me that.  You won’t send me away?  You’re not angry with me for coming?”

“Nay, nay; angered! who said I war angered?  It war good on you to come.  An’ Seth, why donna ye get her some tay?  Ye war in a hurry to get some for me, as had no need, but ye donna think o’ gettin’ ’t for them as wants it.  Sit ye down; sit ye down.  I thank you kindly for comin’, for it’s little wage ye get by walkin’ through the wet fields to see an old woman like me....Nay, I’n got no daughter o’ my own—­ne’er had one—­an’ I warna sorry, for they’re poor queechy things, gells is; I allays wanted to ha’ lads, as could fend for theirsens.  An’ the lads ’ull be marryin’—­I shall ha’ daughters eno’, an’ too many.  But now, do ye make the tay as ye like it, for I’n got no taste i’ my mouth this day—­it’s all one what I swaller—­it’s all got the taste o’ sorrow wi’t.”

Dinah took care not to betray that she had had her tea, and accepted Lisbeth’s invitation very readily, for the sake of persuading the old woman herself to take the food and drink she so much needed after a day of hard work and fasting.

Seth was so happy now Dinah was in the house that he could not help thinking her presence was worth purchasing with a life in which grief incessantly followed upon grief; but the next moment he reproached himself—­it was almost as if he were rejoicing in his father’s sad death.  Nevertheless the joy of being with Dinah would triumph—­it was like the influence of climate, which no resistance can overcome.  And the feeling even suffused itself over his face so as to attract his mother’s notice, while she was drinking her tea.

“Thee may’st well talk o’ trouble bein’ a good thing, Seth, for thee thriv’st on’t.  Thee look’st as if thee know’dst no more o’ care an’ cumber nor when thee wast a babby a-lyin’ awake i’ th’ cradle.  For thee’dst allays lie still wi’ thy eyes open, an’ Adam ne’er ’ud lie still a minute when he wakened.  Thee wast allays like a bag o’ meal as can ne’er