“Eh,” said Lisbeth, impatiently.  “Thee think’st so ’cause she wouldna ha’ thee.  She’ll ne’er marry thee; thee mightst as well like her t’ ha’ thy brother.”

Seth was hurt.  “Mother,” he said, in a remonstrating tone, “don’t think that of me.  I should be as thankful t’ have her for a sister as thee wouldst t’ have her for a daughter.  I’ve no more thoughts about myself in that thing, and I shall take it hard if ever thee say’st it again.”

“Well, well, then thee shouldstna cross me wi’ sayin’ things arena as I say they are.”

“But, Mother,” said Seth, “thee’dst be doing Dinah a wrong by telling Adam what thee think’st about her.  It ’ud do nothing but mischief, for it ’ud make Adam uneasy if he doesna feel the same to her.  And I’m pretty sure he feels nothing o’ the sort.”

“Eh, donna tell me what thee’t sure on; thee know’st nought about it.  What’s he allays goin’ to the Poysers’ for, if he didna want t’ see her?  He goes twice where he used t’ go once.  Happen he knowsna as he wants t’ see her; he knowsna as I put salt in’s broth, but he’d miss it pretty quick if it warna there.  He’ll ne’er think o’ marrying if it isna put into’s head, an’ if thee’dst any love for thy mother, thee’dst put him up to’t an’ not let her go away out o’ my sight, when I might ha’ her to make a bit o’ comfort for me afore I go to bed to my old man under the white thorn.”

“Nay, Mother,” said Seth, “thee mustna think me unkind, but I should be going against my conscience if I took upon me to say what Dinah’s feelings are.  And besides that, I think I should give offence to Adam by speaking to him at all about marrying; and I counsel thee not to do’t.  Thee may’st be quite deceived about Dinah.  Nay, I’m pretty sure, by words she said to me last Sabbath, as she’s no mind to marry.”

“Eh, thee’t as contrairy as the rest on ’em.  If it war summat I didna want, it ’ud be done fast enough.”

Lisbeth rose from the bench at this, and went out of the workshop, leaving Seth in much anxiety lest she should disturb Adam’s mind about Dinah.  He consoled himself after a time with reflecting that, since Adam’s trouble, Lisbeth had been very timid about speaking to him on matters of feeling, and that she would hardly dare to approach this tenderest of all subjects.  Even if she did, he hoped Adam would not take much notice of what she said.

Seth was right in believing that Lisbeth would be held in restraint by timidity, and during the next three days, the intervals in which she had an opportunity of speaking to Adam were too rare and short to cause her any strong temptation.  But in her long solitary hours she brooded over her regretful thoughts about Dinah, till they had grown very near that point of unmanageable strength when thoughts are apt to take wing out of their secret nest in a startling manner.  And on Sunday morning, when Seth went away to chapel at Treddleston, the dangerous opportunity came.