patience remained grimly unflagging. She would remind him that the farm
belonged to her, that he would have to wait till her death before he
could bring the hussy to Hootsey: he would retort that as soon as the
girl would have him, he intended taking a small holding over at
Scarsdale. Then she would give way, and for a while piteously upbraid
him with her old age, and with the memory of all the years she and he
had spent together, and he would comfort her with a display of brusque,
evasive remorse.

But, none the less, on the morrow, his thoughts would return to dwell on
the haunting vision of the girl's face, while his own rude, credulous
chivalry, kindled by the recollection of her beauty, stifled his
misgivings concerning her conduct.

Meanwhile she dallied with him, and amused herself with the younger men.
Her old uncle fell ill in the spring, and could scarcely leave the
house. She declared that she found life in the valley intolerably dull,
that she hated the quiet of the place, that she longed for Leeds, and
the exciting bustle of the streets; and in the evenings she wrote long
letters to the girl-friends she had left behind there, describing with
petulant vivacity her tribe of rustic admirers. At the harvest-time she
went back on a fortnight's visit to friends; the evening before her
departure she promised Anthony to give him her answer on her return.
But, instead, she avoided him, pretended to have promised in jest, and
took up with Luke Stock, a cattle-dealer from Wigton.


V

It was three weeks since he had fetched his flock down from the fell.