And if the meeting had no good effect on her, it would be pure, useless suffering to you—severe suffering, I fear. She is very much changed" . . .
Adam started up from his chair, and seized his hat which lay on the table. But he stood still then, and looked at Mr Irwine, as if he had a question to ask, which it was yet difficult to utter. Bartle Massey rose quietly, turned the key in the door, and put it in his pocket.
"Is he come back?" said Adam at last.
"No, he is not," said Mr Irwine quietly. "Lay down your hat, Adam, unless you like to walk out with me for a little fresh air. I fear you have not been out again to-day."
"You needn't deceive me, sir," said Adam, looking hard at Mr Irwine, and speaking in a tone of angry suspicion. "You needn't be afraid of me. I only want justice. I want him to feel what she feels. It's his work . . . she was a child as it 'ud ha' gone t' anybody's heart to look at . . . I don't care what she's done . . . it was him brought her to it. And he shall know it . . . he shall feel it . . . if there's a just God, he shall feel what it is t' ha' brought a child Like her to sin and misery" . . .
"I'm not deceiving you, Adam," said Mr Irwine.
