"Find him? He's gone, but Heaven knows where."

"Father, if I were a man, I'd find him, God knows I would."

"It's nigh about the worst as could have happened, it is," said Sim.

"The worst will be to come if we do not find him."

"But how? where? Following him will be the rule o' thumb," said Sim.

"You said he took the road over the Raise," said Rotha. "He'll not go
far, depend upon that. The horse has not been caught. Ralph is among
the mountains yet, take my word for it, father."

"It's bad weather to trapes the fells, Rotha. The ground is all slush
and sladderment."

"So it is, so it is; and you're grown weak, father. I'll go myself.
Liza Branthwaite will come here and fill my place."

"No, no, I'll go; yes, that I will," said Sim. Rotha's ardor of soul
had conquered her father's apprehension of failure.

"It's only for a fortnight at most, that's all," added Sim.

"No more than that. If Ralph is not found in a fortnight, make your
way home."

"But he shall be found, God helping me, he shall," said Sim.