n."

"And you have always had as good and as true as you have given. Steve is
fondly heart-grown to you, Charlotte. But we will say no more; and what
we have said is dropped into my heart like a stone dropped into deep
water."

Then they spoke of the rector, how he was failing a little; and of one
of the maids at Seat-Sandal who was to marry the head shepherd at
Up-Hill; and at last, when there had been enough of indifferent talk to
effectually put Steve out of mind, Ducie asked suddenly, "How is Harry,
and is he doing well?"

This was a subject Charlotte was glad to discuss with Ducie. Harry was a
great favorite with her, and had been accustomed to run to Up-Hill
whenever he was in any boyish scrape. And Harry was _not_ doing well.
"Father is vexed and troubled about him, Ducie," she answered. "Whenever
a letter comes from Harry, it puts every thing wrong in the house.
Mother goes away and cries; and Sophia sulks because, she says, 'it is a
shame any single one of the family should be allowed to make all the
rest uncomfortable.'"

"Harry should never have gone into the army. He hasn't any resisting
power, hasn't Harry. And there is nothing but temptation in the army.
Dear me, Charlotte! We may well pray not to be led into the way of
temptation; for if we once get into it, we are no better off than a fly
in a spider's web."

She was filling the two empty cups as she spoke, but she suddenly set
down the teapot, and listened a moment. "I hear Steve's footsteps. Sit
still, Charlotte. He is opening the door. I knew it was he."

"Mother! mother!"

"Here I am, Steve."

He came in rosy and wet with his climb up the fellside; and, as he
kissed his mother, he put out his hand to Charlotte. Then there was the
pleasantest stir of care and welcome imaginable; and Steve soon found
himself sitting opposite the girl he loved so dearly, taking his cup
from her hands, looking into her bright, kind eyes, exchanging with her
those charming little courtesies which can be made the vehicles of so
much that is not spoken, and that is understood without speech.

But the afternoons were now very short, and the happy meal had to be
hastened. The clouds, too, had fallen low; and the rain, as Ducie said,
"was plashing and pattering badly." She folded her own blanket-shawl
around Charlotte; and as there was no wind, and the road was mostly wide
enough for two, Steve could carry an umbrella, and get her safely home
before the darkening.