“‘Little I thought what love could do.’”

CHAPTER V.

CHARLOTTE.

     “Oh, how this spring of love resembleth
      The uncertain glory of an April day!”

     “Hammering and clinking, chattering stony names
      Of shale and hornblende, rag and trap and tuff,
      Amygdaloid and trachyte.”

When Charlotte again went to Up-Hill she found herself walking through a sober realm of leafless trees.  The glory of autumn was gone.  The hills, with their circular sheep-pens, were now brown and bare; and the plaided shepherds, descending far apart, gave only an air of loneliness to the landscape.  She could see the white line of the stony road with a sad distinctness.  It was no longer bordered with creeping vines and patches of murmuring bee-bent heather.  And the stream-bed also had lost nearly all its sentinel rushes, and the tall brakens from its shaggy slopes were gone.  But Silver Beck still ran musically over tracts of tinkling stones; and, through the chilly air, the lustered black cock was crowing for the gray hen in the hollow.

Very soon the atmosphere became full of misty rain; and ere she reached the house, there was a cold wind, and the nearest cloud was sprinkling the bubbling beck.  It was pleasant to see Ducie at the open door ready to welcome her; pleasant to get into the snug houseplace, and watch the great fire leaping up the chimney, and throwing lustres on the carved oak presses and long settles, and on the bright brass and pewter vessels, and the rows of showy chinaware.  Very pleasant to draw her chair to the little round table on the hearthstone, and to inhale the fragrance of the infusing tea, and the rich aroma of potted char and spiced bread and freshly-baked cheese-cakes.  And still more pleasant to be taken possession of, to have her damp shoes and cloak removed, her chill fingers warmed in a kindly, motherly clasp, and to be made to feel through all her senses that she was indeed “welcome as sun-shining.”

With a little shiver of disappointment she noticed that there were only two tea-cups on the table; and the house, when she came to analyze its atmosphere, had in it the perceptible loneliness of the absent master.  “Is not Stephen at home?” she asked, as Ducie settled herself comfortably for their meal; “I thought Stephen was at home.”

“No, he isn’t.  He went to Kendal three days ago about his fleeces.  Whitney’s carpet-works have made him a very good offer.  Did not the squire speak of it?”

“No.”

“Well he knew all about it.  He met Steve, and Steve told him.  The squire has been a little queer with us lately, Charlotte.  Do you know what the trouble is?  I thought I would have you up to tea, and ask you; so when Sandal was up here this morning, I said, ’Let Charlotte come, and have a cup of tea with me, squire, I’d be glad.’  And he said, ‘When?’ And I said, ‘This afternoon.  I am fair lonely without Steve.’  And he said, ‘I’m agreeable.  She’ll be glad enough to come.’  And I said, ’Thank’ee, squire, I’ll be glad enough to see her.’  But what is the matter, Charlotte?  The squire has been in his airs with Steve ever so long.”