the making of his sermon. He looked
out to sea, and saw with a shadow of sadness the black outline of a
wreck that had come ashore a week before, and over which the white
waves were now breaking. The wind blew steadily from the north-east, and
had a bitter poisonous chill in it, which it doubtless drew from the
fields of the upper ice. The day was dark and over, hung, not with
cloud, but with a kind of dreary vapour that shut out the sun. Father
Thomas shuddered at the wind, and drew his patched cloak round him. As
he did so, he saw three figures come up to the vicarage gate. It was not
a common thing for him to have visitors in the morning, and he saw with
surprise that they were old Master John Grimston, the richest man in the
place, half farmer and half fisherman, a dark surly old man; his wife,
Bridget, a timid and frightened woman, who found life with her harsh
husband a difficult business, in spite of their wealth, which, for a
place like Blea, was great; and their son Henry, a silly shambling man
of forty, who was his father's butt. The three walked silently and
heavily, as though they came on a sad errand.

Father Thomas went briskly down to meet them, and greeted them with his
accustomed cheerfulness. "And what may I do for you?" he said. Old
Master Grimston made a sort of gesture with his head as though his wife
should speak; and she said in a low and somewhat husky voice, with a
rapid utterance, "We have a matter, Father, we would ask you about--are
you at leisure?" Father Thomas said, "Ay, I am ashamed to be not more
busy! Let us go within the house." They did so; and even in the little
distance to the door, the Father thought that his visitors behaved
themselves very strangely. They peered round from left to right, and
once or twice Master Grimston looked sharply behind them, as though they
were followed. They said nothing but "Ay" and "No" to the Father's talk,
and bore themselves like people with a sore fear on their backs. Father
Thomas made up his mind that it was some question of money, for nothing
else was wont to move Master Grimston's mind. So he had them into his
parlour and gave them seats, and then there was a silence, while the two
men continued to look furtively about them, and the goodwife sate with
her eyes upon the priest's face. Father Thomas knew not what to make of
this, till Master Grimston said harshly, "Come, wife, tell the tale and
make an end; we must not take up the Father's time."