Yet here in this autumn twilight, they laughed and chattered, and joked--weird, wrinkled children, enjoying an hour's rough play in a clearing of the storm! Dependent from birth to death on squire, parson, parish, crushed often, and ill-treated, according to their own ideas, but bearing so little ill-will; amusing themselves with their own tragedies even, if they could but sit by a fire and drink a neighbour's cup of tea.
Her heart swelled and burned within her.

Yes, the old people were past hoping for; mere wreck and driftwood on the shore, the spring-tide of death would soon have swept them all into unremembered graves.

But the young men and women, the children, were they too to grow up, and grow old like these--the same smiling, stunted, ignobly submissive creatures?
One woman at least would do her best with her one poor life to rouse some of them to discontent and revolt!.