or self-control. The
necessity for instant action clamoured to him through daylight and
darkness; delay drove him hourly into a hysterical condition approaching
frenzy, and every road to escape save one appeared bolted and barred
against him. But, try as he might, his miseries could not be hidden, and
Will Blanchard, among others, sympathised very heartily with the great
disappointment that had now fallen upon Chris and her sweetheart. His
sister's attitude had astonished both him and his mother. They fancied
that Blanchards were made of sterner stuff; but Chris went down before
the blow in a manner very unexpected. She seemed dazed and unable to
recover from it. Her old elastic spirit was crushed, and a great sorrow
looked from her eyes.

Neither Will nor her mother could rouse her, and so it came about that
thinking how best he could play a brother's part, the master of Newtake
decided on a notable deed and held that the hour for it must be delayed
no longer. He debated the circumstance from every point of view,
examined his accounts, inspected the exact figures represented by the
remainder of his uncle's legacy and then broke the matter to Phoebe. To
his mother he had already spoken concerning the intention, and she
approved it, though without knowing particulars. Phoebe, however,
happened to be quite as familiar with Will's affairs as Will himself,
and while his determination to give Clement and Chris a hundred pounds
was easily come at and most cheering to his heart, the necessity of
breaking the news to his wife appeared not so easy or pleasant. Indeed,
Will approached the task with some trepidation, for a recent event made
it doubly difficult. They sat together one night, after six weeks of
married life, and he plunged into the matter.

"'Tis sad them two being kept apart like this," he said abruptly.

"'Tis so. Nobody feels it more'n me. Matters was hard with us, and now
they 'm all smooth and the future seems fairly bright, tu."

"Very bright," he said stoutly. "The hay's best ever come off my ground,
thanks to the manure from Monks Barton; and look at the wurzels! Miller
hisself said he've never seed a more promising crop, high or low. An'
the things be in prime kelter, tu; an' better than four hunderd pound of
uncle's money still left."

"Long may it be left, I'm sure. 'Tis terrible work dipping into it, an'
I looks at both sides of a halfpenny 'fore I spend it. Wish you would.
You'm tu generous, Will.