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Updated: May 18, 2025
"In an instant Ralph's arm was about her, and she had regained her feet. "What is that?" she said, trembling with fear, and turning backwards. "A drift of frozen sleet, no doubt," Ralph said, kicking with his foot at the spot where Rotha slipped. "No, no," she answered, trembling now with some horrible apprehension. Ralph had stepped back, and was leaning over something that lay across the road.
And Robbie climbed into the cart. Mattha got up and went out in the road. The two men had hardly got clear away when Rotha entered the cottage all but breathless. "Robbie, where is he?" "Gone, just gone, not above two minutes," replied Liza, still whimpering. "Where?" "I scarce know to Penrith, I think. There was no keeping him back.
When Reuben Thwaite formed this resolution he was less than a mile from Shoulthwaite. In the house on the Moss, Rotha was then sitting alone, save for the silent presence of the unconscious Mrs. Ray. The day's work was done. It had been market day, and Willy Ray had not returned from Gaskarth. The old house was quiet within, and not a breath of wind was stirring without.
Rotha stood speechless by the chair of the unconscious invalid, with a face more pale than ashes, and fingers clinched in front of her. "It comes as a shock to you, Rotha, for you seemed somehow to love your poor father." Still the girl was silent. Then Willy's sympathies, which had for two minutes been as unselfish as short-sighted, began to revolve afresh about his own sorrows.
That he was to be outlawed, and that his estate was to be confiscated; that his mother, who still lived, was, with his brother and Rotha, to be turned into the road, this injustice was only too imminent. "In a fortnight was it so?" he asked. "In a fortnight they were to be back? A fortnight from what day?" "Saturday," said Sim; "that's to say, a week come Saturday next."
Milly had been in her Sunday-school class, and they were excellent friends. Across the Rotha, she pursued a little footpath leading to the lakeside. It was a cold day, with flying clouds and gleams on hill and water. The bosom of Silver How held depths of purple shadow, but there were lights like elves at play, chasing each other along the Easedale fells, and the stony side of Nab Scar.
He had told her that her father was innocent, and that he knew it was so. He had asked her if she did not love her father, and she had said, "Better than all the world." Had that been true, quite true? Rotha stopped and plucked at a bough in the fence.
"What were you doing in his room at Fornside?" "Tush, maybe I was only seeking that fine father of thine. Let go your hod, do you hear? Let go, or I'll I'll " Rotha had dropped the woman's dress and grasped her shoulders. In another instant the slight pale-faced girl had pulled this brawny woman to her knees. They were close to the parapet of the bridge, and it was but a few inches high.
"I care not now how soon my awn glass may run out. I've so fret myself ower this mischance that the wrinkles'll soon come." "She needn't wait much for them if she's anxious to be off," whispered Liza to Rotha. "Yes," continues Mrs. Garth, in her melancholy soliloquy, "I fret mysel' the lee-lang day." "She's a deal over slape and smooth," whispered Liza again. "What's it all about?
When the singing ceased, he repeated the refrain beneath his breath. "What if one could but think it?" he muttered, and dropped his head into his hands. Rotha stepped up and tapped his shoulder. "Mr. Garth," she said. He started, and then struggled to hide his discomposure. There was only one way in which a man of his temperament and resource could hope to do it he snarled.
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