poor dull
mind of getting frightened out of the deadly stupefied sleep it was bound
in.

But that bit of talk had done Paul great good, by rousing him to the
thought of what he had to hope for. There was the Confirmation nigh at
hand, and then on beyond there was rest; and the words came into his
mind, 'There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary are at
rest.'

Poor, poor boy! He was very young to have such yearnings towards the
grave, and well-nigh to wish he lay as near to it as Alfred King, so he
might have those loving tender hands near him, those kind voices round
him. Paul had gone through a great deal in these few months; and, used
to good shelter and regular meals, he was less inured to bodily hardship
than many a cottage boy. His utter neglect of his person was telling on
him; he was less healthy and strong than he had been, and though high
spirits, merriment, and the pleasure of freedom and independence, had
made all light to him in the summer, yet now the cold weather, with his
insufficient food and scanty clothing, was dulling him and deadening him,
and hard work and unkind usage seemed to be grinding his very senses
down. To be sure, when twelve o'clock came, he went up into the loft,
ate his bit of dry bread, and said his prayers, as he had not been able
to do in the morning, and that made him feel less forlorn and downcast
for a little while; but then as he sat, he grew cold, and numb, and
sleepy, and seemed to have no life in him, but to be moving like a horse
in a mill, when Boldre called him down, and told him not to be idling
there.

The theft in Mrs. Barker's poultry-yard was never traced home to any one,
but the world did not the less believe Dick Royston and Jesse Rolt to
have been concerned in it. Indeed, they had been drinking up some of
their gains when Harold met them at the shooting-gallery: and Mrs.
Shepherd would not put it out of her head that Paul Blackthorn was in the
secret, and that if he did really go for the medicine as he said, it was
only as an excuse for carrying the chickens to some receiver of stolen
goods. She had no notion of any person doing anything out of pure love
and pity. Moreover, it is much easier to put a suspicion into people's
heads than out again; and if Paul's whole history and each day's doings
had been proved to her in a court of justice, she would still have
chiefly remembered that she had always thought ill of him, and that Ellen
King