And he caught her enthusiasm, and stood up to try his feet, and felt sure that he walked stronger, and would soon be down-stairs once more.  And Julius, whose eyes love did not blind, felt a little scorn for those who could not see such evident decay and dissolution.  “It is really criminal,” he said to Sophia, “to encourage hopes so palpably false.”  For Julius, like all selfish persons, could perceive only one side of a question, the side that touched his own side.  It never entered his mind that the squire was trying to cheer and encourage his wife and daughter, and was privately quite aware of his own condition.  Sandal had not told him that he had received “the token,” the secret message which every soul receives when the King desires his presence.  He had never heard those solemn conversations which followed the reading of “The Evening Service,” when the rector knelt by the side of his old friend, and they two talked with Death as with a companion.  So, though Julius meddled much with Sandal affairs, there was a life there into which he never entered.

One evening in October, Charlotte was walking with Stephen.  They had been to look at the new building, for every inch of progress was a matter of interest to them.  As they came through the village, they perceived that Farmer Huet was holding his apple feast; for he was carrying from his house into his orchard a great bowl of spiced ale, and was followed by a merry company, singing wassail as they poured a little at the root of every tree:—­

              “Here’s to thee, good apple-tree! 
    Whence thou may’st bud, and whence thou may’st blow,
    Whence thou may’st bear apples enou’;
               Hats full, caps full,
               Bushels full, sacks full. 
               Hurrah, then!  Hurrah, then! 
               Here’s to thee, good apple-tree!”

They waited a little to watch the procession round the orchard; and as they stood, Julius advanced from an opposite direction.  He took a letter from his pocket, which he had evidently been to the mail to secure, for Charlotte watched him break the seal as he approached; and when he suddenly raised his head, and saw her look of amazement, he made a little bravado of the affair, and said, with an air of frankness, “It is a letter from Harry.  I thought it was best for his letters not to come to the house.  The mail-bag might be taken to the squire’s room, and who knows what would happen if he should see one of these,” and he tapped the letter significantly with his long pointed fore-finger.

“You should not have made such an arrangement as that, Julius, without speaking to mother.  It was cruel to Harry.  Why should the villagers think that the sight of a letter from him would be so dreadful to his own people?”

“I did it for the best, Charlotte.  Of course, you will misjudge me.”

“Ah!  I know now why Polly Esthwaite called you, ’such a nice, kind, thoughtful gentleman as never was.’  Is the letter for you?”