“No, indeed.  Launcelot’s death made a deal of difference to your father and me.  Father was very solemn and set about his brother’s rights; and even after grandfather died, he didn’t like to be called ‘squire’ until every hope was long gone.  But I would as soon have thought of poor Launcie coming back from the dead as of Tom’s son visiting here; and it is inconvenient right now, exceedingly so; harvesting coming on, and preserving time, and none of the spare rooms opened since the spring cleaning.”

“It is trying for you, mother, but perhaps Julius may not be very much trouble.  He’ll be with father all the time, and he’ll make a change.”

“Change!  That is just what I dread.  Young people are always for change.  They are certain that every change must be a gain.  Old people know that changes mean loss of some kind or other.  After one is forty years old, Sophia, the seasons bring change enough.”

“I dare say they do, mother.  I don’t care much for change, even at my age.  Have you told Charlotte?”

“No, I haven’t told her yet.  I think she is off to Dalton.  Father said he was going this morning, and he never would go without her.”

Indeed, the squire and his younger daughter were at that moment cantering down the valley, mid the fresh green of the fields, and the yellow of the ripening wheat, and the hazy purple of mountains holding the whole landscape in their solemn shelter except in front, where the road stretched to the sea, amid low hills overgrown with parsley-fern and stag’s-horn-moss.  They had not gone very far before they met Stephen Latrigg.  He was well mounted and handsomely dressed; and, as he bowed to the squire and Charlotte, his happy face expressed a delight which Sandal in his present mood felt to be offensive.  Evidently Steve intended to accompany them as far as their roads were identical; but the squire pointedly drew rein, and by the cool civility of his manner made the young man so sensible of his intrusion, that he had no alternative but to take the hint.  He looked at Charlotte with eyes full of tender reproach, and she was too unprepared for such a speedy termination to their meeting to oppose it.  So Stephen was galloping at headlong speed in advance, before she realized that he had been virtually refused their company.

“Father, why did you do that?”

“Do what, Charlotte?  Eh?  What?”

“Send Steve away.  I am sure I do not know what to make of you doing such a thing.  Poor Steve!”

“Well, then, I had my reason for it.  Did you see the way he looked at you?  Eh?  What?”

“Dear me!  A cat may look at a king.  Did you send Steve away for a look?  You have put me about, father.”

“There’s looks and other looks, my lass.  Cats don’t look at kings the way Steve looked at you.  Now, then, I want no love-making between you and Steve Latrigg.”

“What nonsense!  Steve hasn’t said a word of love-making, as you call it.”