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He could hear the old man's plaintive cogitations over the strange experience which had blanched his hair and beard and brought him a visible step nearer to his end. "Soombody towd my owd woman tudther day, Misther Helbeck, at yoong Mason o' t' Browhead had been i' th' park that neet. Mappen tha'll tell me it was soom gell body he'd been coortin. Noa! he doan't gaa about wi' the likes o' thattens!
I'm a'most chilled to t' marrow wi' looking out for thee, lass, for t' mother was in a peck o' troubles about thy none coining home i' t' dayleet, and I'd to keep hearkening out on t' browhead. This was entirely untrue, and Bell knew it to be so; but her husband did not.
Her anxieties for Laura did not long resist the mere pleasure of the journey and the trip, the flatteries of expectation. What a very respectable and, on the whole, good-looking young man was Mr. Seaton! Polly had met him first at the Browhead dance; so that what was a mere black and ugly spot in Laura's memory shone rosy-red in her cousin's.
It appeared that she had discovered a pony carriage for hire in the little village near the bridge, and once or twice during this fortnight, he learned from Augustina that she had spent the afternoon at Browhead Farm, while the Bannisdale household had been absorbed in some function of the season. Augustina disliked the news as much as he did, and would throw up her hands in annoyance.
He's not a desirable cousin for Miss Fountain that I can vouch for! And unluckily," he smiled, "Miss Fountain won't hear any good of this house at Browhead Farm." Even Augustina drew herself up proudly. "My dear Alan, what does it matter what that sort of people think?" He shook his head. "It's a queer business. They were mixed up with young Williams." Augustina started. "Mrs.
Straight along the face of the hill lay her road, past the villages and woods that clothed the hill slope, till someone should show her the gate beyond which lay the rough ascent to Browhead Farm.
Miss Fountain's soft lightness seemed to offer no more resistance than a daffodil on its stalk. But approach her! whether it was poor Hubert, or even ? Polly looked and spoke her perplexity. She let Laura know that Miss Fountain's conversion was assumed at Browhead Farm. Through her blundering though not unkindly talk, Laura gradually perceived indeed a score of disagreeable things. Mrs.
Augustina was very ailing and querulous, and Laura was made to feel that it was her fault. Not a word of regret or apology came from Browhead Farm. Meanwhile Mrs. Denton had apparently made her niece understand that there was to be no more dallying with Miss Fountain. Whenever she and Laura met, Ellen lowered her head and ran.
It was at least ten minutes before she could free herself enough from the unwelcome memories of her walk to find a vindictive pleasure in running hastily to look at her one white dress all she had to wear at the Browhead dance. On Thursday afternoon Helbeck was fishing in the park. The sea-trout were coming up, the day was soft, and he had done well.
But Helbeck had not come with the intention of talking about the Masons. His avoidance of their name was indeed a pointed one. He drew out her admiration of the daffodils and of the view from Browhead Lane. "After Easter we must show you something of the high mountains. Augustina tells me you admire the country. The head of Windermere will delight you."
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