her or touch her, but looked deeply into her eyes for a long
space of time, and took from her again an equally searching regard;
then, turning to her father-in-law and the company at large, she said,
"This is begun, and will be done. He is like his father before him."
To that oracular utterance old King, catching probably but the last
sentence, replied, "And he couldn't do better, my child." He meant no
more than a testimony to his daughter-in-law. Mrs. King's
observations, coupled with that, nevertheless, went far to give credit
to the alleged marriage.

The girl, so far, had said nothing whatever, though she had been
addressed with more than one rough but kindly compliment on her youth
and good looks. And now Andrew King explained that she was dumb.
Consternation took the strange form of jocular approval of his
discretion in selecting a wife who could never nag him--but it was
consternation none the less. The mystery was felt to be deeper; there
was nothing for it now but to call in the aid of the parish
priest--"the minister," as they called him--and this was done. By the
time he had arrived, Miranda King had taken the girl into the cottage,
and the young husband and his grandfather had got the neighbours to
disperse. Bessie Prawle, breathing threatenings and slaughter, had
withdrawn herself.

Mr. Robson, a quiet sensible man of nearer sixty than fifty years,
sat in the cottage, hearing all that his parishioners could tell him
and using his eyes. He saw the centre-piece of all surmise, a
shrinking, pale slip of a girl, by the look of her not more than
fifteen or sixteen years old. She was not emaciated by any means,
seemed to be well nourished, and was quite as vigorous as any child of
that age who could have been pitted against her. Her surroundings
cowed her, he judged. To Dryhope she was a stranger, a foreigner; to
her Dryhope and the Dryhopedale folk were perilous matter. Her general
appearance was that of a child who had never had anything but
ill-usage; she flinched at every sudden movement, and followed one
about with her great unintelligent eyes, as if she was trying to
comprehend what they showed her. Her features were regular and
delicate; her brows broad and eyebrows finely arched, her chin full,
her neck slim, her hands and feet narrow and full of what fanciers
call "breed." Her hair was very long and fine, dark brown with gleams
of gold; her eyes were large, grey in colour, but, as I have said,
unint