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Updated: June 27, 2025
The grasp of the fingers relaxed, the labored breath came more gently, and in a few more minutes she slept. Twilight was long over. The ghost-hour was passed, and the moon outside was slowly gaining a wider empire in the clearing heavens. It was a little after ten o'clock that Rose drew aside the curtain at Burwood and looked out. 'There is the lantern, she said to Agnes, 'just by the vicarage.
And she knew that he stood again on the stairs at Murewell in that September night which gave them their first-born, and that he thanked God because her pain was over. An instant's strained looking, and, sinking back into her arms, he gave two or three gasping breaths, and died. Five days later Flaxman and Rose brought Catherine home. It was supposed that she would return to her mother at Burwood.
It was still raining, but the clouds showed a momentary lightening, and a few gleams of watery sunshine brought out every now and then that sparkle on the trees, that iridescent beauty of distance and atmosphere which goes so far to make a sensitive spectator forget the petulant abundance of mountain rain. Elsmere passed Burwood with a thrill. Should he or should he not present himself?
A delightful art and every opportunity to make it tell! There was a pause. She looked into the fire. 'I don't know whether it is a delightful art, she said presently, stifling a little yawn. 'I believe I am getting very tired of London. Sometimes I think I shouldn't be very sorry to find myself suddenly spirited back to Burwood! Langham gave vent to some incredulous interjection.
The next day, just before early dinner, Rose and Agnes, who had been for a walk, were startled, as they were turning into their own gate, by the frantic waving of a white handkerchief from the Vicarage garden. It was Mrs. Thornburgh's accepted way of calling the attention of the Burwood inmates, and the girls walked on.
As she did so she became aware of a man's figure walking along the space of road between Graybarns and Burwood, the western light behind it. Dr. Baker? But even granting that Mrs. Jenkinson had brought him five miles on a false alarm, in the provoking manner of matrons, the shortest professional visit could not be over in this time. She looked again, shading her eyes.
Every day Robert was on the look-out for the swallows, or listening for the first notes of the nightingale amid the bare spring coverts. But the spring was less perfectly delightful to him than it might have been, for Catherine was away. Mrs. Leyburn, who was to have come south to them in February, was attacked by bronchitis instead at Burwood and forbidden to move, even to a warmer climate.
The distant aspect of Burwood Farm differed in nothing from that of the few other farmhouses which dotted the fells or clustered beside the river between it and the rocky end of the valley. But as one came nearer, certain signs of difference became visible.
Toward six o'clock, the small farmer living across the lane from Burwood became anxious about some sheep which had been left in a high "intak" on the fell. He was a thriftless, procrastinating fellow, and when the storm came on about four o'clock had been taking his tea in a warm ingle-nook by his wife's fire.
'Unbelief, says the orthodox preacher, 'is sin, and implies it': and while he speaks, the saint in the unbeliever gently smiles down his argument, and suddenly, in the rebel of yesterday men see the rightful heir of to-morrow. Meanwhile the Leyburns were at Burwood again.
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