Father," she said, when Sim had followed her into the house, "you
made a great journey for Ralph awhile ago; could you make another
now?"

"What has happened? Do they rype the country with yon warrant still?"
asked Sim.

"Worse than that," said Rotha. "If that were all, we could leave Ralph
to settle with them; they would never serve their warrant, never."

"Worse; what's worse, lass?" said Sim, changing color.

"Outlawry," said Rotha.

"What's that, girl?--what's outlawry?--nothing to do with--with--with
Wilson, has it?" said Sim, speaking beneath his breath, and in quick
and nervous accents.

"No, no: not that. It means that unless Ralph is delivered up within
fourteen days this place will be taken by the bailiffs of the
Sheriff."

"And what of that?" said Sim. "Let them take it--better let them have
it than Ralph fall into their hands."

"Father, poor Mistress Ray would be turned into the roads--they'd have
no pity, none."

"I'll uphod thee that's true," said Sim. "It staggers me."

"We must find Ralph, and at once too," said Rotha.

"Find him? He's gone, but Heaven knows where."

"Father, if I were a man, I'd find him, God knows I would."

"It's nigh about the worst as could have happened, it is," said Sim.

"The worst will be to come if we do not find him."

"But how? where? Following him will be the rule o' thumb," said Sim.

"You said he took the road over the Raise," said Rotha. "He'll not go
far, depend upon that. The horse has not been caught. Ralph is among
the mountains yet, take my word for it, father."

"It's bad weather to trapes the fells, Rotha. The ground is all slush
and sladderment."

"So it is, so it is; and you're grown weak, father. I'll go myself.
Liza Branthwaite will come here and fill my place."

"No, no, I'll go; yes, that I will," said Sim. Rotha's ardor of soul
had conquered her father's apprehension of failure.

"It's only for a fortnight at most, that's all," added Sim.

"No more than that. If Ralph is not found in a fortnight, make your
way home."

"But he shall be found, God helping me, he shall," said Sim.

"He _will_ help you, father," said Rotha, her eyes glistening with
tears.

"When should I start away?"

"To-morrow, at daybreak; that's as I could wish you," said Rotha.

"To-morrow--Sunday? Let it be to-night. It will rain to-morrow, for it
rained on Friday. Let it be to-night, Rotha."

"To-night, then," said the girl, yielding to her father's
su