island--an honest English yeoman; and tore him from his farm, from his
house hard by his mother's grave, from the joy of his heart, his
Susan, and sent him who had never traveled a hundred miles in his life
across a world of waters to keep sheep at the Antipodes. A bereaved
and desolate heart went with Farmer Dodd in the gig to Newborough;
sad, desolate and stricken hearts remained behind. When two loving
hearts are torn bleeding asunder it is a shade better to be the one
that is driven away into action, than the bereaved twin that petrifies
at home.

The bustle, the occupation, the active annoyances are some sort of
bitter distraction to the unfathomable grief--it is one little shade
worse to lie solitary and motionless in the old scenes from which the
sunlight is now fled.

It needed but a look at Susan Merton, as she sat moaning and quivering
from head to foot in George's kitchen, to see that she was in no
condition to walk back to Grassmere Farm to-night.

So as she refused--almost violently refused--to stay at "The Grove,"
William harnessed one of the farm-horses to a cart and took her home
round by the road.

"It is six miles that way 'stead of three, but then we shan't jolt her
going that way," thought William.

He walked by the side of the cart in silence.

She never spoke but once all the journey, and that was about half way,
to complain in a sort of hopeless, pitiful tone that she was cold. It