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Thursday broke clear and windylittle curls of cloud flew high against spreads of watery blue, and the wind raced over Boarzell, smelling of wet furrows. As usual[Pg 163] everyone at Odiam was going to the Faireven Mrs. Backfield, for Reuben said that he would not let the girls go without her. Caro and Tilly were now fifteen and sixteen, and their father began to have fears lest they should marry and leave him. Tilly especially, with her creamy complexion like Naomi's, and her little tip-tilted nose, freckled over the bridge, gave him anxious times. He sternly discouraged any of the neighbouring farmers' sons who seemed inclined to call; he was not going to lose his daughters just when Mrs. Backfield's poor health made them indispensable. It could not be long before his mother diedalready her bouts of rheumatism were so severe that she was practically crippled each winterand when she died Tilly and Caro must take her place.

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The actual means by which he acquired the Fair-place never quite transpired, for the farm-men were paid for their silence by Sir Eustace, and also had a kindly feeling for young George which persisted after the money was spent. However, one or two of the prevalent rumours were worse for Reuben than the facts, and if anyone, in farmhouse or cottage, had ever had a grudging kindness for the man who had wrested a victory out of the tyrant earth, he forgot it now.Outside the great fatigueless machine of steel and iron sang on"Urrr-umUrrr-umUrrr-um."
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TWO:"Bring a light, doI can't abide this dark."
FORE:She was very happy, and if she thought of Harry and what might have been, it only brought a delightful sad-smiling melancholy over her happiness like a bridal veil.
FORE:"Rose!" cried Caro.
FORE:
FORE:"Confound the hand that dropped thee!" muttered the smith, as he sprang on his feet. "John Kirkby, is not that Sudbury yonder? It is he, by St. Nicholas! Seize that babbling old man!he with the mitre!" They had now arrived at the altar.
FORE:
FORE:He smiled grimly"I d?an't."
FORE:
FORE:"It's that hemmed g?ate of yournlost everything!" cried Reuben.He ran to meet her, for his legs tottered so that he could not walk. He could not frame his question, but she answered it:
TWO:At the distance of nearly a mile from Sudley Castle, and at about a quarter of a mile from the high road that led to Oxford, was a singular kind of quarry or cliff. Its elevation was considerable, and the portion of the hill visible from the road was covered with the heathy verdure which usually springs from such scanty soil; but on passing round to the other side, all the barren unsightly appearance of a half worked quarry presented itself. Huge masses of stone stood firmly as nature had formed them, while others, of a magnitude sufficient to awaken in the hardiest, a sense of danger, hung apparently by so slight a tenure, that a passing gust of wind, seemed only required to release their fragile hold. But the hill had stood thus unaltered during the remembrance of the oldest inhabitant of Winchcombe. Strange stories were whispered respecting this cliff, but as the honour of the house of Sudley, and that of another family equally noble, were concerned in the tale, little more than obscure hints were suffered to escape."Nowhy should I?"
TWO:

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TWO:
TWO:Caro had been much unhappier since Rose's flight. She had loved her in an erratic envious way, and Rose's gaiety and flutters of generosity had done much to brighten her humdrum life. Now she was left to her brooding. She felt lonely and friendless. Once or twice she went over to Grandturzel, but the visits were always difficult to manage, and somehow the sight of her sister's happiness made her sore without enlivening her.

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TWO:"But in themselves, I mean."

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Sometimes they looked in the hedges for birds' nests, or watched the rabbits skipping in the dusk. They would gape up at the stars together and call the constellations by names of their ownOrion was "the gurt tree," and Cassiopeia was "the sheep trough," and Pegasus was "the square meadow."While Turner was thus declaiming, a singular looking being, who sat directly opposite to him, had risen, and, evidently quite unmoved by the vehemence of the smith's manner, and equally regardless of the matter of his speech, only awaited until a pause should enable him to commence his own. The man was about five feet two in height, with thick lips and a short turned-up nose, black, bushy brows, overhanging a pair of twinkling grey eyes, and a bald head, receding abruptly from the eyebrows, like those of the lower animals. The moment Turner ceased speaking, the man began, in a deep guttural voice"Send to Rye, then. Let 'em swear in some special constables, and drive the fellows off. But as for[Pg 10] stopping the workthat would be to play into their hands.""It won't be wasting it. Why, Lord love ye, I'd rather spend it on you than anything in the world."
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