24 THE LIFE OF THE FIELDS. 



till the end, received a money reward from the insur- 

 ance office for his share in detecting the incendiary. 

 This reward ruined him — killed him. Golden sove- 

 reigns in his pocket destroyed him. He went on the 

 drink ; he drank, and was enticed to drink, till in six 

 weeks he died in the infirmary of the workhouse. 



Mat being in the convict prison, and Dolly near to 

 another confinement, she could not support herself; 

 she was driven to the same workhouse in which her 

 brother had but just died. I am not sure, but believe 

 that pseudo-science, the Torturer of these days, denied 

 her the least drop of alcohol during her travail. If it 

 did permit one drop, then was the Torturer false to 

 his creed. Dolly survived, but utterly broken, hollow- 

 chested, a w^orkhouse fixture. Still, so long as she 

 could stand she had to wash in the laundry ; weak as 

 she was, they weakened her still farther with steam 

 and heat, and labour. Washing is hard work for 

 those who enjoy health and vigour. To a girl, broken 

 in heart and body, it is a slow destroyer. Heat re- 

 laxes all the fibres ; Dolly's required bracing. Steam 

 will soften wood and enable the artificer to bend it to 

 any shape. Dolly's chest became yet more hollow ; 

 her cheek-bones prominent; she bent to the steam. 

 This was the girl who had lingered in the lane to help 

 the boy pick watercress, to gather a flower, to listen 

 to a thrush, to bask in the sunshine. Open air and 

 green fields were to her life itself. Heart miseries 

 are always better borne in the open air. How just, 

 how truly scientific, to shut her in a steaming wash- 

 house ! 



The workhouse was situated in a lovely spot, on 



