"Oh, did 'ee?" said Joan, turning her eyes away, while into her heart
there crept a suspicion of Jonathan's perfect honesty. Was it possible
that his love of money might have led him to betray his old friends?
Joan's fears were aroused. "'Tis a poor job of it," she said,
anxiously. "I wish to goodness 't had happened to any o' the rest, so
long as you and uncle was out of it."

"And not Jerrem?" said Adam, with a feeble attempt at his old teasing.

"Awh, Jerrem's sure to fall 'pon his feet, throw un which way you
will," said Joan. "Besides, if he didn't"--and she turned a look of
reproach on Adam--"Jerrem ain't you, Adam, nor uncle neither. I don't
deny that I don't love Jerrem dearly, 'cos I do"--and for an instant
her voice seemed to wrestle with the rush of tears which streamed from
her eyes as she sobbed--"but for you or uncle, why, I'd shed my heart's
blood like watter--iss that I would, and not think 'twas any such great
thing, neither."

"There's no need to tell me that," said Adam, whose heart, softened by
his love for Eve, had grown very tender toward Joan. "Nobody knows you
better than I do. There isn't another woman in the whole world I'd
trust with the things I'd trust you with, Joan."

"There's a dear!" said Joan, recovering herself. "It does me good to
hear 'ee spake like that. 'Tis such a time since I had a word with 'ee
that I began to feel I don't know how-wise."

"Well, yes," said Adam, smiling, "'tis a bravish spell since you and me
were together by our own two selves. But I declare your talk's done me