man puffed, puffed, in silence a few minutes, and then turned the
conversation. However, Sandal had been touched on a point where he was
exceedingly sensitive; and he rose with a sigh, and said, "Well, well,
Latrigg, good-by. I'll go down the fell now. Come, Charlotte."

Unconsciously he spoke with an authority not usual to him, and the
parting was a little silent and hurried; for Ducie was in the throng of
her festival, and rather impatient for Stephen's help. Only Latrigg
walked to the gate with them. He looked after Sandal and his daughter
with a grave, but not unhappy wistfulness; and when a belt of larches
hid them from his view, he turned towards the house, saying softly,--

"It is like to be my last shearing. Very soon this life will _have
been_, but through Christ's mercy I have the over-hand of the future."

It was almost as hard to go down the fell as to come up it, for the road
was very steep and stony. The squire took it leisurely, carrying his
straw hat in his hand, and often standing still to look around him. The
day had been very warm; and limpid vapors hung over the mountains, like
something far finer than mist,--like air made visible,--giving them an
appearance of inconceivable remoteness, full of grandeur; for there is a
sublimity of distance, as well as a sublimity of height. He made
Charlotte notice them. "Maybe, many a year after this, you'll see the
hills look just that way, dearie; then think on this evening and on me."

She did not speak, but she looked into his face, and clasped his hand
tightly. She was troubled with her own mood. Try as she would, it was
impossible to prevent herself drifting into most unusual silences.
Stephen's words and looks filled her heart; she had only half heard the
things her father had been saying. Never before had she found an hour in