She had been cast homeless into the road, she and all her household; her aged mother had died of exposure the first bitter night, and now for two long weeks she had walked on and on--on and on--her children with her--on and on--living Heaven knows how!" A light now seemed to Ralph to be cast on the great change in his friend; but was it indeed fear for his (Ralph's) well-being that had goaded poor Sim to a despair so near allied to madness?
"What about Wilson ?" he asked, after a pause.
The tailor started at the name.
"I don't know--I don't know at all," he answered, as though eager to assert the truth of a statement never called into dispute.
"Does he intend to come back to Fornside to-night, Sim ?" "So he said." "What, think you, is his work at Gaskarth ?" "I don't know--I know nothing--at least--no, nothing." Ralph was sure now.

Sim was too eager to disclaim all knowledge of his lodger's doings.

He would not recognize the connection between the former and present subjects of conversation.
The night had gathered in, and the room was dark except for the glimmer of a little fire on the open hearth.

The young dalesman looked long into it: his breast heaved with emotion, and for the first time in his manhood big tears stood in his eyes.

It must be so; it must be that this poor forlorn creature, who had passed through sufferings of his own, and borne them, was now shattered and undone at the prospect of disaster to his friend.