From her parents he always had a welcome.  Oppressed by their daughter’s depression of spirits, they hailed the coming of any visitor as a change for her as well as for themselves.  The former intimacy with the Corneys was in abeyance for all parties, owing to Bessy Corney’s out-spoken grief for the loss of her cousin, as if she had had reason to look upon him as her lover, whereas Sylvia’s parents felt this as a slur upon their daughter’s cause of grief.  But although at this time the members of the two families ceased to seek after each other’s society, nothing was said.  The thread of friendship might be joined afresh at any time, only just now it was broken; and Philip was glad of it.  Before going to Haytersbank he sought each time for some little present with which to make his coming welcome.  And now he wished even more than ever that Sylvia had cared for learning; if she had he could have taken her many a pretty ballad, or story-book, such as were then in vogue.  He did try her with the translation of the Sorrows of Werther, so popular at the time that it had a place in all pedlars’ baskets, with Law’s Serious Call, the Pilgrim’s Progress, Klopstock’s Messiah, and Paradise Lost.  But she could not read it for herself; and after turning the leaves languidly over, and smiling a little at the picture of Charlotte cutting bread and butter in a left-handed manner, she put it aside on the shelf by the Complete Farrier; and there Philip saw it, upside down and untouched, the next time he came to the farm.

Many a time during that summer did he turn to the few verses in Genesis in which Jacob’s twice seven years’ service for Rachel is related, and try and take fresh heart from the reward which came to the patriarch’s constancy at last.  After trying books, nosegays, small presents of pretty articles of dress, such as suited the notions of those days, and finding them all received with the same languid gratitude, he set himself to endeavour to please her in some other way.  It was time that he should change his tactics; for the girl was becoming weary of the necessity for thanking him, every time he came, for some little favour or other.  She wished he would let her alone and not watch her continually with such sad eyes.  Her father and mother hailed her first signs of impatient petulance towards him as a return to the old state of things before Kinraid had come to disturb the tenour of their lives; for even Daniel had turned against the specksioneer, irritated by the Corneys’ loud moans over the loss of the man to whom their daughter said that she was attached.  If Daniel wished for him to be alive again, it was mainly that the Corneys might be convinced that his last visit to the neighbourhood of Monkshaven was for the sake of the pale and silent Sylvia, and not for that of Bessy, who complained of Kinraid’s untimely death rather as if by it she had been cheated of a husband than for any overwhelming personal love towards the deceased.