hear and see nought of her
for a twelvemonth, me being in Manchester looking out, I'll just ha'
broken my heart fairly before the year's ended, and then I shall know
neither love nor sorrow for her any more, when I'm at rest in my grave.
I'll agree to that, Will."

"Well, I suppose it must be so. I shall not tell Tom, mother, why we're
flitting to Manchester. Best spare him."

"As thou wilt," said she, sadly, "so that we go, that's all."

Before the wild daffodils were in flower in the sheltered copses round
Upclose Farm, the Leighs were settled in their Manchester home; if they
could ever grow to consider that place as a home, where there was no
garden or outbuilding, no fresh breezy outlet, no far-stretching view,
over moor and hollow; no dumb animals to be tended, and, what more than
all they missed, no old haunting memories, even though those remembrances
told of sorrow, and the dead and gone.

Mrs. Leigh heeded the loss of all these things less than her sons. She
had more spirit in her countenance than she had had for months, because
now she had hope; of a sad enough kind, to be sure, but still it was
hope. She performed all her household duties, strange and complicated as
they were, and bewildered as she was with all the town necessities of her
new manner of life; but when her house was "sided," and the boys come
home from their work in the evening, she would put on her things and
steal out, unnoticed, as she thought, but not without many a heavy sigh
from Will, after she had closed the house-door and departed. It was
often past midnight before she came back, pale and weary, with almost a
guilty look upon her face; but that face so full of disappointment and
hope deferred, that Will had never the heart to say what he thought of
the folly and hopelessness of the search. Night after night it was
renewed, till days grew to weeks, and weeks to months. All this time
Will did his duty towards her as well as he could, without having
sympathy with her. He stayed at home in the evenings for Tom's sake, and
often wished he had Tom's pleasure in reading, for the time hung heavy on
his hands as he sat up for his mother.

I need not tell you how the mother spent the weary hours. And yet I will
tell you something. She used to wander out, at first as if without a
purpose, till she rallied her thoughts, and brought all her energies to
bear on the one point; then she went with earnest patience along the
least-known