y point of Devon
lore. So Patience took off her hat, and sat herself down, waiting till
they should go. For full an hour she had to wait, and then Gribbles and
Poulter did go. But it was not in such matters as this that Patience
Woolsworthy was impatient. She could wait, and wait, and wait, curbing
herself for weeks and months, while the thing waited for was in her eyes
good; but she could not curb her hot thoughts or her hot words when
things came to be discussed which she did not think to be good.

'Papa,' she said, when Gribbles' long-drawn last word had been spoken at
the door. 'Do you remember how I asked you the other day what you would
say if I were to leave you?'

'Yes, surely,' he replied, looking up at her in astonishment.

'I am going to leave you now,' she said. 'Dear, dearest father, how am I
to go from you?'

'Going to leave me,' said he, thinking of her visit to Helpholme, and
thinking of nothing else.

Now there had been a story about Helpholme. That bedridden old lady
there had a stalwart son, who was now the owner of the Helpholme
pastures. But though owner in fee of all those wild acres and of the
cattle which they supported, he was not much above the farmers around
him, either in manners or education. He had his merits, however; for he
was honest, well to do in the world, and modest withal. How strong love
had grown up, springing from neighbourly kindness, between our Patience
and his mother, it needs not here to tell; but rising from it had come
another love--or an ambition which might have grown to love. The young
man, after much thought, had not dared to speak to Miss Woolsworthy, but
he had sent a message by Miss Le Smyrger. If there could be any hope for
him, he would present himself as a suitor--on trial. He did not owe a
shilling in the world, and had money by him--saved. He wouldn't ask the
parson for a shilling of fortune. Such had been the tenor of his
message, and Miss Le Smyrger had delivered it faithfully. 'He does not
mean it,' Patience had said with her stern voice. 'Indeed he does, my
dear. You may be sure he is in earnest,' Miss Le Smyrger had replied;
'and there is not an honester man in these parts.'

'Tell him,' said Patience, not attending to the latter portion of her
friend's last speech, 'that it cannot be,--make him understand, you
know--and tell him also that the matter shall be thought of no more.'
The matter had, at any rate, been spoken of no more, but the young
far