“Only partly I fear.  I can see that squire Sandal has taken a dislike, and your mother was a little high with me when I saw her last.”

“Partly your own fault, sir.  Why did you give up the ways of your fathers?  The idea of mills and trading in these dales is such a new one.”

“But a man must move with his own age, Charlotte.  There is no prospect of another Stuart rebellion.  I cannot do the queen’s service, and get rewarded as old Christopher Sandal did.  And I want to go to Parliament, and can’t go without money.  And I can’t make money quick enough by keeping sheep and planting wheat.  But manufacturing means money, land, influence, power.”

“Father does not see these things as you do, Steve.  He sees the peaceful dales invaded by white-faced factory-hands, loud-voiced, quarrelling, disrespectful.  All the old landmarks and traditions will disappear; also simple ways of living, calm religion, true friendships.  Every good old sentiment will be gauged by money, will finally vanish before money, and what the busy world calls ‘improvements.’  It makes him fretful, jealous, and unhappy.”

“That is just the trouble, Charlotte.  When a man has not the spirit of his age, he has all its unhappiness.  But my greatest fear is, that you will grow weary of waiting for our hour.”

“I have told you that I shall not.  There is an old proverb which says, ‘Trust not the man who promises with an oath.’  Is not my simple word, then, the best and the surest hope?”

Then she nestled close to his side, and began to talk of his plans and his journey, and to anticipate the time when he would break ground upon Silver Beck, and build the many-windowed factory that had been his dream ever since he had began to plan his own career.  The wind rose, the rain fell in a down-pour before they reached the park-gates; but there was a certain joy in facing the wet breeze, and although they did not loiter, yet neither did they hurry.  In both their hearts there was a little fear of the squire, but neither spoke of it.  Charlotte would not suppose or suggest any necessity for avoiding him, and Steve was equally sensitive on the subject.

When they arrived at Seat-Sandal the main entrance was closed, and Stephen stood with her on the threshold until a man-servant opened slowly its ponderous panels.  There was a bright fire burning in the hall, and lights were in the sconces on the walls.  Charlotte asked Steve to come in and rest a while.  She tried to avoid showing either fear or hurry, and Steve was conscious of the same effort on his own part; but yet he knew that they both thought it well none of the family were aware of her return, or of his presence.  She watched him descend the dripping steps into the darkness, and then went towards the fire.  An unusual silence was in the house.  She stood upon the hearthstone while the servant rebolted the door, and then asked,—­

“Is dinner served, Noel?”