from being better acquainted with her
husband's plans and fears. She saw at once the position in which he
was placed; a grave one, to judge by her countenance.

"Then you think John is right?"

"Of course I do."

I had not meant it as a question, or even a doubt. But it was pleasant
to hear her thus answer. For, as I have said, Ursula was not a woman
to be led blindfold, even by her husband. Sometimes they differed on
minor points, and talked their differences lovingly out; but on any
great question she had always this safe trust in him--that if one were
right and the other wrong, the erring one was much more likely to be
herself than John.

She said no more; but put the children to bed; then came downstairs
with her bonnet on.

"Will you come with me, Phineas? Or are you too tired? I am going
down to the mill."

She started, walking quickly--yet not so quick but that on the slope of
the common she stooped to pick up a crying child, and send it home to
its mother in Enderley village.

It was almost dark, and we met no one else except a young man, whom I
had occasionally seen about of evenings. He was rather odd looking,
being invariably muffled up in a large cloak and a foreign sort of hat.

"Who is that, watching our mills?" said Mrs. Halifax, hastily.

I told her all I had seen of the person.

"A Papist, most likely--I mean a Catholic." (John objected to the
opprobrious word "Papist.") "Mrs. Tod says there are a good many
hidden hereabouts. They used to find shelter at Luxmore."

And that name set both our thoughts anxiously wandering; so that not
until we reached the foot of the hill did I notice that the person had
followed us almost to the mill-gates.

In his empty mill, standing beside one of its silenced looms, we found
the master. He was very much dejected--Ursula touched his arm before
he even saw her.

"Well, love--you know what has happened?"

"Yes, John. But never mind."

"I would not--except for my poor people."

"What do you intend doing? That which you have wished to do all the
year?"

"Our wishes come as a cross to us sometimes," he said, rather bitterly.
"It is the only thing I can do. The water-power being so greatly
lessened, I must either stop the mills, or work them by steam."

"Do that, then. Set up your steam-engine."

"And have all the country down upon me for destroying hand-labour? Have
a new set of Luddites coming to burn my mill, and break my machinery