Arriving at
Hillsborough, he tied her in the sheds and took his way to the Sign
of the Dial. Darrel was working at his little bench. He turned
wearily, his face paler than Trove had ever seen it, his eyes
deeper under their fringe of silvered hair.
"An' God be praised, the boy!" said he, rising quickly. "Canst
thou make a jest, boy, a merry jest?"
"Not until you have told me what's the matter."
"Illness an' the food o' bitter fancy," said the tinker, with a sad
face.
"Bitter fancy?"
"Yes; an' o' thee, boy. Had I gathered care in the broad fields
all me life an' heaped it on thy back, I could not have done worse
by thee."
Darrel put his hand upon the boy's shoulder, surveying him from
head to foot.
"But, marry," he added, "'tis a mighty thigh an' a broad back."
"Have you seen my father?"
"Yes."
There was a moment of silence, and Trove began to change colour.
"And what did he say?"
"That he will bear his burden alone."
Then, for a moment, silence and the ticking of the clocks.
"And I shall never know my father?" said Trove, presently, his lips
trembling. "God, sir! I insist upon it. I have a right to his
name and to his shame also.
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