HOMELESS.


Of course Stephen's brief term of favour with Black Thompson was at an
end; but whether Miss Anne had given him a hint that the boy was under
her protection, and had confessed all to her, or because he might be
busy in some deeper scheme of wickedness, he did not display as much
anger as Stephen expected, when he refused to show him the haunts of
the grouse, or go with him again on a poaching expedition. Stephen was
more humble and vigilant than he had been before falling into temptation.
He set a close watch upon himself, lest he should be betrayed into a
self-confident spirit again; and Tim's loud praises sounded less
pleasantly in his ears, so that one evening he told him, with much shame,
into what sin he had been led by his desire to avenge Snip's murder.
Unfortunately, this disclosure so much heightened Tim's estimation of his
character, that from time to time he gave utterance to mysterious hints
of the extraordinary courage and spirit Stephen could manifest when
occasion required. These praises were, however, in some measure balanced
by Martha's taunts and reproaches at home.

The shooting season had commenced, and the lord of the manor was come,
with a number of his friends, to shoot over the hills and plantations. He
was a frank, pleasant-looking gentleman, but far too grand and high for
Stephen to address, though he gazed wistfully at him whenever he chanced
to meet him on the hills. One afternoon Martha saw him and the master
walking towards Fern's Hollow, where the fencing-in of the green and of
the coppice behind the hut were being finished rapidly; and she crept
with stealthy steps under the hedge of the garden, until she came within
earshot of them; but they were just moving on, and all she heard of the
conversation were these words, from the lord of the manor: 'You shall