e to
the other; for I saw that some most powerful bond of grateful affection
made Miss Galindo almost worship my lady.

Meanwhile, Harry Gregson was limping a little about in the village, still
finding his home in Mr. Gray's house; for there he could most
conveniently be kept under the doctor's eye, and receive the requisite
care, and enjoy the requisite nourishment. As soon as he was a little
better, he was to go to Mr. Horner's house; but, as the steward lived
some distance out of the way, and was much from home, he had agreed to
leave Harry at the house; to which he had first been taken, until he was
quite strong again; and the more willingly, I suspect, from what I heard
afterwards, because Mr. Gray gave up all the little strength of speaking
which he had, to teaching Harry in the very manner which Mr. Horner most
desired.

As for Gregson the father--he--wild man of the woods, poacher, tinker,
jack-of-all trades--was getting tamed by this kindness to his child.
Hitherto his hand had been against every man, as every man's had been
against him. That affair before the justice, which I told you about,
when Mr. Gray and even my lady had interested themselves to get him
released from unjust imprisonment, was the first bit of justice he had
ever met with; it attracted him to the people, and attached him to the
spot on which he had but squatted for a time. I am not sure if any of
the villagers were grateful to him for remaining in their neighbourhood,
instead of decamping as he had often done before, for good reasons,
doubtless, of personal safety. Harry was only one out of a brood of ten
or twelve children, some of whom had earned for themselves no good
character in service: one, indeed, had been actually transported, for a
robbery committed in a distant part of the county; and the tale was yet
told in the village of how Gregson the father came back from the trial in
a state of wild rage, striding through the place, and uttering oaths of
vengeance to himself, his great black eyes gleaming out of his matted
hair, and his arms working by his side, and now and then tossed up in his
impotent despair. As I heard the account, his wife followed him, child-
laden and weeping. After this, they had vanished from the country for a
time, leaving their mud hovel locked up, and the door-key, as the
neighbours said, buried in a hedge bank. The Gregsons had reappeared
much about the same time that Mr. Gray came to Hanbury. He had