n rude, credulous
chivalry, kindled by the recollection of her beauty, stifled his
misgivings concerning her conduct.

Meanwhile she dallied with him, and amused herself with the younger men.
Her old uncle fell ill in the spring, and could scarcely leave the
house. She declared that she found life in the valley intolerably dull,
that she hated the quiet of the place, that she longed for Leeds, and
the exciting bustle of the streets; and in the evenings she wrote long
letters to the girl-friends she had left behind there, describing with
petulant vivacity her tribe of rustic admirers. At the harvest-time she
went back on a fortnight's visit to friends; the evening before her
departure she promised Anthony to give him her answer on her return.
But, instead, she avoided him, pretended to have promised in jest, and
took up with Luke Stock, a cattle-dealer from Wigton.

V

It was three weeks since he had fetched his flock down from the fell.

After dinner he and his mother sat together in the parlour: they had
done so every Sunday afternoon, year in and year out, as far back as he
could remember.

A row of mahogany chairs, with shiny, horse-hair seats, were ranged
round the room. A great collection of agricultural prize-tickets were
pinned over the wall; and, on a heavy, highly-polished sideboard stood
several silver cups. A heap of gilt-edged shavings filled the unused
grate: there were gaudily-tinted roses along the mantelpiece, and, on a
small table by the window, beneath a glass-case, a gilt basket filled
with imitation flowers. Every object was disposed with a scrupulous
precision: the carpet and the red-patterned cloth on the centre table
were much faded. The room was spotlessly clean, and wore, in the chilly
winter sunlight, a rigid, comfortless air.

Neither spoke, or appeared conscious of the other's presence. Old Mrs.
Garstin, wrapped in a woollen shawl, sat knitting: Anthony dozed
fitfully on a stiff-backed chair.

Of a sudden, in the distance, a bell started tolling. Anthony rubbed his
eyes drowsily, and taking from the table his Sunday hat, strolled out
across the dusky fields. Presently, reaching a rude wooden seat, built
beside the bridle-path, he sat down and relit his pipe. The air was very
still; below him a white filmy mist hung across the valley: the
fell-sides, vaguely grouped, resembled hulking masses of sombre shadow;
and, as he looked back, three squares of glimmering gold revealed the
ligh