The Ordeal

But it was of no use: the pleasant April weather out of doors, and
perhaps the natural spring in the body, disposed her nature to
cheerfulness, and insensibly she returned to her old ditty.

Kester was turning over many things in his rude honest mind as he
stood there, giving his finishing touches every now and then to the
aspect of the house-place, in preparation for the return of the
widow and daughter of his old master.

It was a month and more since they had left home; more than a
fortnight since Kester, with three halfpence in his pocket, had set
out after his day's work to go to York--to walk all night long, and
to wish Daniel Robson his last farewell.

Daniel had tried to keep up and had brought out one or two familiar,
thread-bare, well-worn jokes, such as he had made Kester chuckle
over many a time and oft, when the two had been together afield or
in the shippen at the home which he should never more see. But no
'Old Grouse in the gunroom' could make Kester smile, or do anything
except groan in but a heart-broken sort of fashion, and presently
the talk had become more suitable to the occasion, Daniel being up
to the last the more composed of the two; for Kester, when turned
out of the condemned cell, fairly broke down into the heavy sobbing
he had never thought to sob again on earth. He had left Bell and
Sylvia in their lodging at York, under Philip's care; he dared not
go to see them; he could not trust himself; he had sent them his
duty, and bade Philip tell Sylvia that the game-hen had brought out
fifteen chickens at a hatch.