y, ay,' said Robson; 'thou's hit t' marrow on t' matter. Now, if
thou'rt i' Newcassel, thou can learn all about it; thou'rt little
better nor a woman, for sure, bein' mainly acquaint wi' ribbons, but
they'll tell thee--they'll tell thee, lad; and write down what they
sayn, and what's to be t' price, and look sharp as to what kind o'
folk they are as sells 'em, an' write and let me know. Thou'll be i'
Newcassel to-morrow, may-be? Well, then, I'll reckon to hear fro'
thee in a week, or, mayhap, less,--for t' land is backward, and I'd
like to know about t' pleughs. I'd a month's mind to write to
Brunton, as married Molly Corney, but writin' is more i' thy way an'
t' parson's nor mine; and if thou sells ribbons, Brunton sells
cheese, and that's no better.'

Philip promised to do his best, and to write word to Robson, who,
satisfied with his willingness to undertake the commission, bade him
go on and see if he could not find the lass. Her father was right in
saying that she might not have set out for Yesterbarrow. She had
talked about it to Kinraid and her father in order to cover her
regret at her lover's accompanying her father to see some new kind
of harpoon about which the latter had spoken. But as soon as they
had left the house, and she had covertly watched them up the brow in
the field, she sate down to meditate and dream about her great
happiness in being beloved by her hero, Charley Kinraid. No gloomy
dread of his long summer's absence; no fear of the cold, glittering
icebergs bearing mercilessly down on the _Urania_, nor shuddering
anticipation of the dark waves of evil import, crossed her mind. He
loved her, and that was enough. Her eyes looked, trance-like, into a
dim, glorious future of life; her lips, still warm and reddened by
his kiss, were just parted in a happy smile, when she was startled
by the sound of an approaching footstep--a footstep quite familiar
enough for her to recognize it, and which was unwelcome now, as
disturbing her in the one blessed subject of thought in which alone
she cared to indulge.

'Well, Philip! an' what brings _yo'_ here?' was her rather
ungracious greeting.

'Why, Sylvie, are yo' sorry to see me?' asked Philip, reproachfully.
But she turned it off with assumed lightness.

'Oh, yes,' said she. 'I've been wanting yo' this week past wi' t'
match to my blue ribbon yo' said yo'd get and bring me next time yo'
came.'

'I've forgotten it, Sylvie. It's clean gone out of my mind,'