mind. Mary tried to take the Bible from him but, with an oath, he
refused to give it up. The day was a busy one for her. Learoyd's
man-servant had gone with a flock of sheep and lambs to a distant moor,
and the duties of feeding the stock and milking the cows fell to her.
The farmer preserved a sullen silence while she was in the house, but no
sooner was she outside than his muttering began.

"Coals o' fire, aye, that's what shoo's heapin' on me, coals o' hell
fire; they're burnin' my heart to a cinder. It's vengeance shoo's after;
shoo favours her mother. All women are just t' same. She-devils, that's
what they are. Shoo sal have her vengeance, sure enough, an' then mebbe
t' coals o' fire will burn her as they're burnin' me." A red-hot cinder
fell into the grate as he spoke, and Learoyd gazed at it with curious
intentness until it had lost all its glow.

"I'll fotch t' halter out o' t' kist, an' I'll do it," he began once
more. "Shoo san't torment me no longer: t' coals o' fire sal be upon her
own heead."

Here he lapsed into morose silence, and Mary, re-entering the farm
kitchen shortly afterwards, found him, as she had left him, gazing
intently into the fire with the Bible open on his knees. She got tea
ready, but Learoyd stubbornly refused to eat or drink anything, and when
at last ten o'clock came the farmer roused himself from his lethargy and
stole off to bed, casting furtive glances at Mary as he passed through
the door. She wisely refrained from intruding herself upon him that
night, but, climbing the stairs to her bedroom, listened for sounds in
the adjoining chamber. She could hear Learoyd muttering to himself, and
she noticed that he was quicker in getting into bed than usual. A
suspicion crossed her mind that he had not undressed, and this confirmed