iscoursing by the fire till near ten
o'clock of one thing and another, and, among the rest, of one Allan
Ritson, who had newly settled at Ravenglass. Thomas said Allan was fresh
from Scotland, being Scottish born, and that his wife was Irish, and
that they had a child, called Paul, only a few months old, and not yet
walking.'

"The very thing! Wait, here's something more:

"'Nov. 19th (Lord's day).--Went to church, and many people came to
worship. Parson Skerton read the prayers and Thomas Storsacre the
lessons. I prayed, and preached from Matt. vii. 23, 24; then ceased, and
dismissed the people. After service, Thomas brought his new neighbor,
Allan Ritson, who asked me to visit him that day and dine. So I went
with him, and saw his wife and child--an infant in arms. Mrs. Ritson is
a woman of some education and much piety. Her husband is a rough, blunt
dalesman, of the good old type.'

"The very thing," the parson repeated, and he put a pipe spill in the
page.

"I wonder why he wants it?" said Greta.

She left Parson Christian still looking at his book, and went out on her
errand.

She was more than an hour gone, and when she returned, the winter's day
had all but closed in. Only a little yellow light still lingered in the
sky.

"Greta, they have sent for you from the Ghyll," said the parson, as she
entered. "Mrs. Ritson wants to see you to-night. Natt, the stableman,
came with the trap. But he has gone again."

"I will follow him at once," said Greta.

"Nay, my lass; the day is not young enough," said the parson.

"I was never afraid of the dark," said Greta.

She took down a lantern and lighted it, drew her cloak more closely
about her, and prepared to go.

"Then take this paper to young Mr. Hugh. It's a copy of what is written
in my book."

Greta hesitated. But she could not tell Parson Christian what had passed
between Hugh and herself. She took the paper and hastened away.

The parson sat for a while before the fire. Then he rose, walked to the
door and opened it. "Heaven bless the girl, it's snowing! What a night
for the child to be abroad!" He returned in disturbed humor to the
fireside.

CHAPTER VIII.

When Greta set out, the atmosphere was yellow and vaporish. The sky grew
rapidly darker. As she reached the village, thin flakes of snow began to
fall. She could feel them driven by the wind against her face, and when
she came by the inn she could see them in the dull, yellow light.