ordering
things on the farm for a long absence, and for Brune's management or
succession. He paid several visits to Whitehaven, where was his
banker, and to Gosport, where his lawyer lived. He felt, during that
terrible interval of suspense, very much as a man under sentence of
death might feel.

The morning of the fifteenth broke chill and dark, with a promise of
rain. Great Gable was carrying on a conflict with an army of gray
clouds assailing his summit and boding no good for the weather. The
fog rolled and eddied from side to side of the mountains, which
projected their black forms against a ghastly, neutral tint behind
them; and the air was full of that melancholy stillness which so often
pervades the last days of autumn.

Squire Anneys had slept little for two weeks, and he had been awake
all the night before. While yet very early, he had every one in the
house called. Still there were no preparations for company or
feasting. Brune came down grumbling at a breakfast by candle-light,
and he and William drank their coffee and made a show of eating almost
in silence. But there was an unspeakable tenderness in William's
heart, if he had known how to express it. He looked at Brune with a
new speculation in his eyes. Brune might soon be master of Ambar-Side:
what kind of a master would he make? Would he be loving to Aspatria?
When Brune had sons to inherit the land, would he remember his
promise, and avenge the insult to the Anneys, if he, William, should
give his life in vain? Out of these questions many others arose; but
he was naturally a man of few words, and not able to talk himself into
a conviction that he was doing right; nor yet was he able to give
utterance to the vague objections which, if defined by words, might
perhaps have changed his feelings and his plans.

He had sent Aspatria word that she must be ready by ten o'clock. At
eight she began to dress. Her sleep had been broken and miserable. She
looked anxiously in the glass at her face. It was as white as the silk
robe she was to wear. A feeling of dislike of the unhappy garment rose
in her heart. She had bought the silk in the very noon of her love and
hopes, a shining piece of that pearl-like tint which only the most
brilliant freshness and youth can becomingly wear. Many little
accessories were wanting. She tried the Roman cameos with it, and they
looked heavy; she knew in her womanly heart that it needed the lustre
of gems, the sparkle of diamond