ng wife.
She went over to her father, walked close to him, and put her plump
little hand with its shining addition upon his shoulder.

"Faither dear, I be a married woman. I had to tell lies and play false,
but't was to you an' Mr. Grimbal I've been double, not to my husband
that is. I was weak, and I've been punished sore, but--"

"Why, gal alive! what rigmarole 's this? Married--ay, an' so you shall
be, in gude time. You 'm light-headed, lass, I do b'lieve. But doan't
fret, I'll have Doctor--"

"Hear me," she said, almost roughly. "I kept my word--my first sacred
word--to Will. I loved him, an' none else but him; an' 'tis done--I've
married him this marnin', for it had to be, an' theer's the sign an'
token of it I've brought along with me."

She drew the copy of the register from her pocket, opened it with
trembling fingers, set it before Mr. Lyddon, and waited for him to
speak. But it was some time before he found words or wind to do so.
Literally the fact had taken his breath. A curious expression, more grin
than frown--an expression beyond his control in moments of high
emotion--wrinkled his eyelids, stretched his lips, and revealed the
perfect double row of his false teeth. His hand went forward to the blue
paper now lying before him, then the fingers stopped half way and shook
in the air. Twice he opened his mouth, but only a sharp expiration,
between a sigh and a bark, escaped.

"My God, you've shook the sawl of un!" cried Billy, starting forward,
but the miller with an effort recovered his self-possession, scanned the
paper, dropped it, and lifted up his voice in lamentation.

"True--past altering--'t is a thing done! May God forgive you for this
wicked deed, Phoebe Lyddon--I'd never have b'lieved it of 'e--never--not
if an angel had tawld me. My awn that was, and my awnly one! My darter,
my soft-eyed gal, the crown of my grey hairs, the last light of my
life!"

"I pray you'll come to forgive me in time, dear faither. I doan't ax 'e
to yet a while. I had to do it--a faithful promise. 'T was for pure
love, faither; I lied for him--lied even to you; an' my heart 's been
near to breakin' for 'e these many days; but you'd never have listened
if I'd told 'e."

"Go," he said very quietly. "I caan't abear the sight of'e just now. An'
that poor fule, as thrawed his money in golden showers for 'e! Oh, my
gude God, why for did 'E leave me any childern at all? Why didn't 'E
take this cross-hearted wan when t' ot