spoke i' my ear, as I thought you might be a sperrit. Ye've got a'most the face o' one as is a-sittin' on the grave i' Adam's new Bible."
"I come from the Hall Farm now. You know Mrs Poyser—she's my aunt, and she has heard of your great affliction, and is very sorry; and I'm come to see if I can be any help to you in your trouble; for I know your sons Adam and Seth, and I know you have no daughter, and when the clergyman told me how the hand of God was heavy upon you, my heart went out towards you, and I felt a command to come and be to you in the place of a daughter in this grief, if you will let me."
"Ah! I know who y' are now; y' are a Methody, like Seth; he's tould me on you," said Lisbeth, fretfully, her overpowering sense of pain returning, now her wonder was gone. "Ye'll make it out as trouble's a good thing, like he allays does. But where's the use o' talkin' to me a-that'n? Ye canna make the smart less wi' talkin'. Ye'll ne'er make me believe as it's better for me not to ha' my old man die in 's bed, if he must die, an' ha' the parson to pray by 'm, an' me to sit by 'm, an' tell him ne'er to mind th' ill words I'n gen him sometimes when I war angered, an' to gi' 'm a bit an' a
