e Bishop had met with a somewhat queer reception at the Mowedale
works, Gerard prescient that some trouble might in consequence occur
there, determined to repair at once to the residence of his late
employer. It so happened that Monday was the day on which the cottages
up the dale and on the other side of the river were visited by an envoy
of Ursula Trafford, and it was the office of Sybil this morning to
fulfil the duties of that mission of charity. She had mentioned this to
her father on the previous day, and as in consequence of the strike, he
was no longer occupied, he had proposed to accompany his daughter on
the morrow. Together therefore they had walked until they arrived at
the bridge, it being then about two hours to noon, a little above
their former residence. Here they were to separate. Gerard embraced his
daughter with even more than usual tenderness; and as Sybil crossed
the bridge, she looked round at her father, and her glance caught his,
turned for the same fond purpose.

Sybil was not alone; Harold, who had ceased to gambol, but who had
gained in stature, majesty and weight what he had lost of lithe and
frolick grace, was by her side. He no longer danced before his mistress,
coursed away and then returned, or vented his exuberant life in a
thousand feats of playful vigour; but sedate and observant, he was
always at hand, ever sagacious, and seemed to watch her every glance.

The day was beautiful, the scene was fair, the spot indeed was one which
rendered the performance of gracious offices to Sybil doubly sweet. She
ever begged of the Lady Superior that she might be her minister to the
cottages up Dale. They were full of familiar faces. It was a region
endeared to Sybil by many memories of content and tenderness. And as she
moved along to-day her heart was light, and the natural joyousness
of her disposition, which so many adverse circumstances had tended to
repress, was visible in her sunny face. She was happy about her father.
The invasion of the miners, instead of prompting him as she had feared
to some rash conduct, appeared to have filled him only with disgust.
Even now he was occupied in a pursuit of order and peace, counselling
prudence and protecting the benevolent.

She passed through a copse which skirted those woods of Mowbray wherein
she had once so often rambled with one whose image now hovered over her
spirit. Ah! what scenes and changes, dazzling and dark, had occurred
since the carele