They gave him drink, moistened his face with water, and administered some drops of cordial and wine. Though he lay quite motionless looking up at the sky, he smiled and said, ‘Rachael.’ She stooped down on the grass at his side, and bent over him until her eyes were between his and the sky, for he could not so much as turn them to look at her.
‘ Rachael, my dear.’
She took his hand. He smiled again and said, ‘Don’t let ’t go.’
‘ Thou’rt in great pain, my own dear Stephen?’
‘ I ha’ been, but not now. I ha’ been—dreadful, and dree, and long, my dear—but ’tis ower now. Ah, Rachael, aw a muddle! Fro’ first to last, a muddle!’
The spectre of his old look seemed to pass as he said the word.
‘ I ha’ fell into th’ pit, my dear, as have cost wi’in the knowledge o’ old fok now livin,
