one? would you have
had Catharine marry him? I have no patience with you, Furze!"

Mr. Furze subsided, but he did not move to go to his business, and Mrs.
Furze went down into the kitchen. Mr. Eaton had called at the shop at
that early hour wishing to see Mr. Furze or Tom. He was to return
shortly, and Mr. Orkid Jim, not knowing exactly what to do with such a
customer, and, moreover, being rather curious, had left a boy in charge
and walked back to the Terrace.

"There's Jim again at the door," said Mrs. Furze to Phoebe; "let him in."

"Excuse me, ma'am, but never will I go to the door to let that man in
again as long as I live."

"Phoebe! do you know what you are saying? I direct you to let him in."

"No, ma'am; you may direct, but I shan't. Nothing shall make me go to
the door to the biggest liar and scoundrel in this town, and if you don't
know it yourself, Mrs. Furze, you ought."

"You do not expect me to stand this, Phoebe? You will have a month's
wages and go to-night."

"This morning, ma'am, if you please."

Before noon her box was packed, and she too had departed.

CHAPTER XVII

Tom began to understand, as soon as he left the Terrace, that a
consciousness of his own innocence was not all that was necessary for his
peace of mind. What would other people say? There was a damning chain
of evidence, and what was he to do for a living with no character?

He did not return home nor to the shop. He took the road to Chapel Farm.
He did not go to the house direct, but went round it, and walked about,
and at last found himself on the bridge. It was there that he met
Catharine after her jump into the water; it was there, although he knew
nothing about it, that she parted from Mr. Cardew. It was no thundery,
summer day now, but cold and dark. The wind was north-east, persistent
with unvarying force; the sky was covered with an almost uniform sheet of
heavy grey clouds, with no form or beauty in them; there was nothing in
the heavens or earth which seemed to have any relationship with man or to
show any interest in him. Tom was not a philosopher, but some of his
misery was due to a sense of carelessness and injustice somewhere in the
government of the world. He was religious after his fashion, but the
time had passed when a man could believe, as his forefathers believed,
that the earth is a school of trial, and that after death is the
judgment. What had he done to be visited thus? How was