 and leave no two beams of his house
standing where the builder placed them. You may sack it, burn it, do with it as
you like, but it must come down; it must be razed to the ground; and he, and all
belonging to him, left as shelterless as new-born infants whom their mothers
have exposed. Do you understand me?« said Gashford, pausing, and pressing his
hands together gently.
    »Understand you, master!« cried Hugh. »You speak plain now. Why, this is
hearty!«
    »I knew you would like it,« said Gashford, shaking him by the hand; »I
thought you would. Good night! Don't rise, Dennis: I would rather find my way
alone. I may have to make other visits here, and it's pleasant to come and go
without disturbing you. I can find my way perfectly well. Good night!«
    He was gone, and had shut the door behind him. They looked at each other,
and nodded approvingly: Dennis stirred up the fire.
    »This looks a little more like business!« he said.
    »Ay, indeed!« cried Hugh; »this suits me!«
    »I've heerd it said of Muster Gashford,« said the hangman, »that he'd a
surprising memory and wonderful firmness - that he never forgot, and never
forgave. - Let's drink his health!«
    Hugh readily complied - pouring no liquor on the floor when he drank this
toast - and they pledged the secretary as a man after their own hearts, in a
bumper.
 

                                  Chapter XLV

While the worst passions of the worst men were thus working in the dark, and the
mantle of religion, assumed to cover the ugliest deformities, threatened to
become the shroud of all that was good and peaceful in society, a circumstance
occurred which once more altered the position of two persons from whom this
history has long been separated, and to whom it must now return.
    In a small English country town, the inhabitants of which supported
themselves by the labour of their hands in plaiting and preparing straw for
those who made bonnets and other articles of dress and ornament from that
material, - concealed under an assumed name, and living in a quiet poverty which
knew no change, no pleasures, and few cares but that of struggling on from day
to day in one great toil for bread, - dwelt Barnaby and his mother. Their poor
cottage had known no stranger's foot since they sought the shelter of its roof
five years
