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If there were any all-embracing harmony, one soul through all, he did not see it. Knowles that old skeptic believed in it, and called it Love. Even Goethe himself, what was it he said? "Der Allumfasser, der Allerhalter, fasst und erhält er nicht dich, mich, sich selbst?"
By and by certain familiar whoops and hullohs announced that the enemy was coming. "They hevn't coomed yet, hev they?" we heard the sexton's son say, as he peeped over at our pond. "Noa," was the reply. "It's not gone one yet." "It's gone one by t' church. I yeard it as we was coming up t' lane." "T' church clock's always hafe-an-hour fasst, thee knows." "It isn't!" "It is."
Mebbe he'll be meetin' his Mäaker face to face, before the year's oot; yo' canno' tell. He's weakenin' fasst. An' he's ben a hard mon to his awn flesh and blood. There'll be a reckonin'! An' the Lord's sent him this yan chance o' repentance. I'll not stan' i' the Lord's way whativer. Coom along, Missie!"
And yo' know varra well, it may be runnin' too fasst to get t' horses through an' they'd be three pussons inside, an' luggage at top." "Aye, they may have to goa back to Pengarth that's varra possible." "An' all t' dinner spoilin', an' t' fires wastin' for nowt." The speaker stood peering discontentedly into the gloom without: "But you'll not trouble yoursen, Tammas, I daursay."
'Howd yor noise! said David, peremptorily. 'If yo wanted to keep out o' their way, yo could do't fasst enough. 'How! they inquired, with equal curtness. 'Yo needn't meet in th' town at aw. Theer's plenty o' places up on t' moor, and he waved his hand towards the hills behind him, lying clear in the autumn moonlight. Theer's th' owd smithy who'd find yo there?
And, drawing himself up to his full height, the old man pointed a quivering finger at the pool. 'Ay, it's got her an your stones are tied fasst! Passon Maine says she's safe that yo'll see her naw moor While holly sticks be green, While stone on Kinder Scoot be seen. But I tell yo, Passon Maine lees! I tell yo t' witch ull walk t' witch ull walk!
'Theer's my grandfeyther, said 'Lias, almost in a whisper, 'an owd Needham an his two brithers, an yoong Jack Needham's woife her as losst her babby an yoong lads an lasses fro Clough End, childer awmost, and t' coonstable, an Passon Maine Ay ay yo've doon it! Yo've doon it! She'll mak naw moor mischeef neets she's gay quiet now! T' watter's got her fasst enough!
I could ha' put yo' i' the river fasst enoof." A ghastly chuckle in the darkness. Boden considered. "Well, now are you going to give yourself up? You see I can do nothing to force you! But if you take my advice, you'll go quietly with me, to the police you'll make a clean breast of it." "Will they hang me, Muster Boden?" "I don't think so," said Boden slowly. "What made you do it?"
If there were any all-embracing harmony, one soul through all, he did not see it. Knowles that old sceptic believed in it, and called it Love. Even Goethe himself, what was it he said? "Der Allumfasser, der Allerhalter, fasst und erhalt er nicht, dich, mich, sich selbst?"
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