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Updated: May 11, 2025
I know not whether the Arle- sians neglected their trust; but the extinction of the sturdy little stronghold is too complete not to have begun long ago. Its memories are buried under its ponderous stones.
This very morning handsome Dan had come back again to Arle, and earned his revenge, too, though he had only meant to clear himself when he told her what chance had brought to light.
One day at Arle a tiny scattered fishing hamlet on the northwestern English coast there stood at the door of one of the cottages near the shore a woman leaning against the lintel-post and looking out: a woman who would have been apt to attract a stranger's eye, too a woman young and handsome.
"Theer's not a mon i' Arle as isna more to me now than tha art," she said, "Some on 'em be honest, an' I conna say that o' thee. Tha canst get thee gone or I'll go mysen. Tha knows't me well enow to know I'll ne'er f orgie thee for what tha's done. Aye" with the passionate hand-wringing again "but that wunnot undo it." He rose and came to her, trembling like a man with the ague.
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