ou oughtn't to have
forgotten--"

"Wait a bit. Father's letter told me--I'd show you the place, only I
know you couldn't read it--that he was a going to look after Mary, and
bring her back home, and forgive her. He'd done that twice for _me,_
when _I_ run away; so I didn't doubt but what he'd do it just the same
for _her._ She'll pull through her scrape with father just as I used to
pull through mine--was what I thought. And so she would, if her own kin
hadn't turned against her; if father's own sister hadn't--" He stopped;
the frown gathered on his brow, and the oath burst from his lips, as he
thought of Joanna Grice's share in preventing Mary's restoration to her
home.

"There! there!" interposed Mrs. Peckover, soothingly. "Talk about
something pleasanter. Let's hear how you come back to England."

"I can't rightly fix it when Mary first begun to drop out of my head
like," Mat continued, abstractedly pursuing his previous train of
recollections. "I used to think of her often enough, when I started for
my run in the wild country. That was the time, mind ye, when I had clear
notions about coming back home. I got her a scarlet pouch and another
feather plaything then, knowing she was fond of knick-knacks, and making
it out in my own mind that we two was sure to meet together again. It
must have been a longish while after that, afore I got ashamed to go
home. But I did get ashamed. Thinks I, 'I haven't a rap in my pocket
to show father, after being away all this time. I'm getting summut of a
savage to look at already; and Mary would be more frighted than pleased
to see me as I am now. I'll wait a bit,' says I, 'and see if I can't
keep from tramping about, and try and get a little money, by doing some
decent sort of work, afore I go home.' I was nigh about a good ten days'
march then from any seaport where honest work could be got for such
as me; but I'd fixed to try, and I did try, and got work in a
ship-builder's yard. It wasn't no good. Tramps' fever was in my head;
and in two days more I was off again to the wild country, with my gun
over my shoulder, just as damned a vagabond as ever."

Mrs. Peckover held up her hands in mute amazement. Matthew, without
taking notice of the action, went on, speaking partly to her and partly
to himself.

"It must have been about that time when Mary and father, and all what
had to do with them, begun to drop out of my head. But I kep' them two
knick-knacks, which was once meant fo