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“’Tis vain to lie—at least to you an’ to myself. I love ’e, Tim; I love ’e wi’ all my poor heart—all—all of it.”

Her breath left her red lips in a little cloud and she hung her head hopelessly down.

“God can tell why such cruel things happen, dearest. Yet you loved him too—poor chap.”

“Never. ’Tis the difference ’tween thinkin’ an’ knowin’—a difference wide as the Moor. I never knowed love; I never knowed as theer was such a—but this be wicked talk. You’ve winned the solemn truth out o’ me; an’ that must content ’e. I never could ax un to give me up—him so gude an’ workin’ that terrible hard to make a home for me.”

“What will the home be when you’ve got it? Some might think it was better that one should suffer instead of two.”

“I couldn’t leave him, out of pity.”

“You must think of yourself, too, Sarah—if not of me. I hate saying so, but when your life’s salvation hangs on it, who can be dumb? John Aggett’s a big-hearted, honest man; yet he hasn’t our deep feelings; it isn’t in him to tear his heart to tatters over one woman as I should.”