Dinah made no answer, and they walked on in silence for some yards, till they came to the stone stile, where, as Adam had passed through first and turned round to give her his hand while she mounted the unusually high step, she could not prevent him from seeing her face.  It struck him with surprise, for the grey eyes, usually so mild and grave, had the bright uneasy glance which accompanies suppressed agitation, and the slight flush in her cheeks, with which she had come downstairs, was heightened to a deep rose-colour.  She looked as if she were only sister to Dinah.  Adam was silent with surprise and conjecture for some moments, and then he said, “I hope I’ve not hurt or displeased you by what I’ve said, Dinah.  Perhaps I was making too free.  I’ve no wish different from what you see to be best, and I’m satisfied for you to live thirty mile off, if you think it right.  I shall think of you just as much as I do now, for you’re bound up with what I can no more help remembering than I can help my heart beating.”

Poor Adam!  Thus do men blunder.  Dinah made no answer, but she presently said, “Have you heard any news from that poor young man, since we last spoke of him?”

Dinah always called Arthur so; she had never lost the image of him as she had seen him in the prison.

“Yes,” said Adam.  “Mr. Irwine read me part of a letter from him yesterday.  It’s pretty certain, they say, that there’ll be a peace soon, though nobody believes it’ll last long; but he says he doesn’t mean to come home.  He’s no heart for it yet, and it’s better for others that he should keep away.  Mr. Irwine thinks he’s in the right not to come.  It’s a sorrowful letter.  He asks about you and the Poysers, as he always does.  There’s one thing in the letter cut me a good deal:  ’You can’t think what an old fellow I feel,’ he says; ’I make no schemes now.  I’m the best when I’ve a good day’s march or fighting before me.’”

“He’s of a rash, warm-hearted nature, like Esau, for whom I have always felt great pity,” said Dinah.  “That meeting between the brothers, where Esau is so loving and generous, and Jacob so timid and distrustful, notwithstanding his sense of the Divine favour, has always touched me greatly.  Truly, I have been tempted sometimes to say that Jacob was of a mean spirit.  But that is our trial:  we must learn to see the good in the midst of much that is unlovely.”

“Ah,” said Adam, “I like to read about Moses best, in th’ Old Testament.  He carried a hard business well through, and died when other folks were going to reap the fruits.  A man must have courage to look at his life so, and think what’ll come of it after he’s dead and gone.  A good solid bit o’ work lasts:  if it’s only laying a floor down, somebody’s the better for it being done well, besides the man as does it.”

They were both glad to talk of subjects that were not personal, and in this way they went on till they passed the bridge across the Willow Brook, when Adam turned round and said, “Ah, here’s Seth.  I thought he’d be home soon.  Does he know of you’re going, Dinah?”