Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age.

“Well, missus,” said he, “I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi’ fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on.”

“Young and handsome. Yes!” cried the old woman, quite delighted. “As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!”

“Aye, missus, I suppose she be,” said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael.

“Suppose she be? She must be. She’s your master’s wife,” returned the old woman.

Stephen nodded assent. “Though as to master,” said he, glancing again at Rachael, “not master onny more. That’s aw enden ’twixt him and me.”