atty, you know I could not help it. This is sorest of all, you
that have always stood by me and father's wish."

"Yes, yes," sobbed Patience. "I wot you are right, Stead. I'll hold to
you, though I wish--I wish you would think like other folk."

Yet Patience knew in her secret soul that then he would not be her own
Steadfast, and she persuaded him no more, though the discomforts and
deficiencies of their present home tried her more and more as the family
grew older. Stead had contrived a lean-to, with timbers from the old
house, and wattled sides stuffed with moss, where he and little Ben
slept in summer time, and they had bought or made some furniture--a
chair and table, some stools, bedding, and kitchen utensils, and she
toiled to keep things clean, but still it was a mere hovel, with the
door opening out into the glade. Foxes and polecats prowled, owls
hooted, and the big dog outside was a needful defender, even in summer
time, and in winter the cold was piteous, the wet even worse, and they
often lost some of their precious animals--chickens died of cold,
and once three lambs had been carried away in a sudden freshet. Yet
Patience, when she saw Steadfast convinced, made up her mind to stand by
him, and defended him when the younger girls murmured.

Rusha was of a quiet, acquiescent, contented nature, and said little, as
Emlyn declared, "She knew nothing better;" but Emlyn was more and more
weary of the gulley, and as nothing was heard of her friends, and she
was completely one of the home, she struggled more with the dullness
and loneliness. She undertook all errands to the village for the sake of
such change as a chatter with the young folk there afforded her, or for
the chance of seeing the squire's lady or sons and daughters go by; and
she was wild to go on market days to Bristol.

[Illustration: Emlyn at the Market]

In spite of Puritan greyness, soldiers, sailors, gentlemen, ladies, and
even fashions, such as they were, could be seen there, and news picked
up, and Emlyn would fain have persuaded Steadfast that she should be
the most perfect market woman, if he would only let her ride in on the
donkey between the panniers, in a broad hat, with chickens and ducks
dangling round, eggs, butter, and fruit or nuts, and even posies,
according to the season, and sit on the steps of the market-place among
the other market women and girls.

Steadfast would have been the last to declare that her laughing dark
eyes,