ople marry again, and why
shouldn't I? I am sure your poor father would never have wished me to
waste my life by remaining single, with nothing to do but to look after
you children. And it is shameful of you to speak in that way of Mr.
Mulready."

Ned stopped to hear no more. At her first words he had given a low,
gasping cry, as one who has received a terrible wound. The blood flew
to his head, the room swam round, and he seemed to feel the veins in
his temples swell almost to bursting. The subsequent words of his mother
fell unheeded on his ears, and turning round he went slowly to the door,
groping his way as one half asleep or stupefied by a blow.

Mechanically he opened the door and went out into the street; his cap
was still on his head, but he neither thought of it one way or the
other.

Almost without knowing it he turned from the town and walked toward the
hills. Had any one met him by the way they would assuredly have thought
that the boy had been drinking, so strangely and unevenly did he walk.
His face was flushed almost purple, his eyes were bloodshot; he swayed
to and fro as he walked, sometimes pausing altogether, sometimes
hurrying along for a few steps. Passing a field where the gate stood
open he turned into it, kept on his way for some twenty yards further,
and then fell at full length on the grass. There he lay unconscious for
some hours, and it was not until the evening dews were falling heavily
that he sat up and looked round.

For some time he neither knew where he was nor what had brought him
there. At last the remembrance of what had passed flashed across him,
and with a cry of "Father! father!" he threw himself at full length
again with his head on his arm; but this time tears came to his relief,
and for a long time he cried with a bitterness of grief even greater
than that which he had suffered at his father's death.

The stars were shining brightly when he rose to his feet, his clothes
were soaked with dew, and he trembled with cold and weakness.

"What am I to do?" he said to himself; "what am I to do?"

He made his way back to the gate and leaned against it for some time;
then, having at last made up his mind, he turned his back on the town
and walked toward Varley, moving more slowly and wearily than if he was
at the end of a long and fatiguing day's walk. Slowly he climbed the
hill and made his way through the village till he reached the Swintons'
cottage. He tapped at the door wi