Though Martha was truly sorry for Black Thompson’s family, she felt her importance as one of the chief witnesses against him; especially as the cinder-hill cabin was visited, not only by the gossips of Botfield, but by more distinguished persons from all the farmhouses around; and her thrilling narrative of her hazardous journey through Botfield along the high road was listened to with greedy interest.  In this foolish talking she lost that true sympathy which she ought to have felt for poor Bess, and forfeited the blessing which would have been given to her own soul.  But it was very different with Stephen in his lonely work upon the mountains.  There he thought over the crimes and punishment of Black Thompson, until his heart was filled with an unutterable pity and fellow-feeling both towards him and his family; and every night, as he went home from his labour, he turned aside to the cottage, to read to Bess and her mother some portion of the Scriptures which he had chosen for their comfort, out of a pocket Bible given to him by Miss Anne.

About a fortnight after these events Stephen received a visitor upon the uplands, where he was seeking a lamb that had strayed into a dwarf forest of gorse-bushes, and was bleating piteously in its bewilderment.  A pleasant-sounding voice called ‘Stephen Fern!’ and when he got free from the entangling thorns, with the rescued lamb in his arms, who should be waiting for him but the lord of the manor himself!  Stephen knew his face again in an instant, and dropped the lamb that he might take off his old cap, while the gentleman smiled at him with a hearty smile.

‘I am Danesford, of Danesford,’ he said gaily; ’and I believe you are Stephen Fern, of Fern’s Hollow.  I’ve brought you a message, my boy.  Can you guess what young lady has sent me over the hills after you?’

‘Miss Anne,’ answered Stephen promptly.

‘No; there are other young ladies in the world beside Miss Anne!’ replied Mr. Danesford.  ’Have you forgotten Miss Lockwood?  She has not forgotten you; and we are come home ready to give battle to your enemies, and reinstate you in all your rights.  She gives Mr. Lockwood and me no rest until we have got Fern’s Hollow, and everything else, for you again.’

‘Sir,’ said Stephen, and his eyes filled with tears, ’nobody can give me back little Nan.’

‘No,’ answered Mr. Danesford gravely; ’I know how hardly you have been dealt with, my boy.  Tell me truly, is your religion strong enough to enable you to forgive Mr. Wyley indeed?  Is it possible that you can forgive him from your heart?’

Stephen was silent, looking down at the heath upon which his feet were pressed, but seeing none of its purple blossoms.  It was a question that must not be answered rashly, for even that morning he had glanced down the fatal shaft with a deep yearning after little Nan; and as he passed the ruins of his master’s house, his memory had recalled the destruction of the old hut with something of a feeling of triumph.