what won Mr. Horner's regard. In the first
instance, the steward had only chosen the lad
out as the cleverest instrument he could find
for his purpose; and I don't mean to say
that, if Harry had not been almost as shrewd
as Mr. Horner himself was, both by original
disposition and subsequent experience, the
steward would have taken to him as he did,
let the lad have shown ever so much affection
for him.

But even to Harry Mr. Horner was silent.
Still it was pleasant to find himself in many
ways so readily understood; to perceive that
the crumbs of knowledge he let fall were
picked up by his little follower, and hoarded
like gold; that here was one to hate the
persons and things whom Mr. Horner coldly
disliked, and to reverence and admire all
those for whom he had any regard. Mr.
Horner had never had a child, and
unconsciously, I suppose, something of the paternal
feeling had begun to develope itself in him
towards Harry Gregson. I heard one or two
things from different people which have
always made me fancy that Mr. Horner
secretly and almost unconsciously hoped that
Harry Gregson might be trained so as to be
first his clerk, and next his assistant, and
finally his successor in his stewardship to the
Hanbury estates.

Harry's disgrace with my lady, in
consequence of his reading the letter, was a
deeper blow to Mr. Horner than his quiet
manner would ever have led any one to
suppose, or than Lady Ludlow ever dreamed of
inflicting, I am sure.

Probably Harry had a short, stern rebuke
from Mr. Horner at the time, for his manner
was always hard even to those he cared for
the most. But Harry's love was not to be
daunted or quelled by a few sharp words. I
daresay, from what I heard of them
afterwards, that Harry accompanied Mr. Horner
in his walk over the farm the very day of
the rebuke; his presence apparently
unnoticed by the agent, by whom his absence
would have been painfully felt nevertheless.
That was the way of it, as I have been told.
Mr. Horner never bade Harry go with him;
never thanked him for going, or being at his
heels ready to run on any errands, straight
as the crow flies to his point, and back to
heel in as short a time as possible. Yet, if
Harry were away, Mr. Horner never
inquired the reason from any of the men who
might be supposed to know if he were
detained by his father, or otherwise engaged;
he never asked Harry himself where he had
been. But Miss Galindo said that those
labourers who knew Mr. Horner well told
her that he was always more quick-eyed to
short-comings, more savage-like in fault-finding
on those days when the lad was absent.

Miss Galindo, indeed, was my great authority
for most of the village news which I
heard. She it was who gave me the
particulars of poor Harry's accident.

"You see, my dear," she said, "the little
poacher has taken some unaccountable fancy
to my master." (This was the name by
which Miss Galindo always spoke of Mr.
Horner to me, ever since she had been, as
she called it, appointed his clerk.)

"Now if I had twenty hearts to lose, I
never could spare a bit of one of them for
that good, grey, square, severe man. But
different people have different tastes, and
here is that little imp of a gipsy-tinker ready
to turn slave for my master; and, odd enough,
my master,—who, I should have said beforehand,
would have made short work of imp,
and imp's family, and have sent Hall, the
Bang-Beggar after them in no time—my
master, as they tell me, is in his way quite
fond of the lad, and if he could, without
vexing my lady too much, he would have
made him what the folks here call a Latiner.
However, last night it seems that there was
a letter of some importance forgotten (I
can't tell you what it was about, my dear,
though I know perfectly well, but 'service
oblige,' as well as 'noblesse,' and you must
take my word for it that it was important,
and one that I'm surprised my master
could forget), till too late for the post.
(The poor, good, orderly man is not what
he was before his wife's death. Well, it
seems that he was sore annoyed by his
forgetfulness, and well he might be. And
it was all the more vexatious as he had
no one to blame but himself. As for that
matter, I always scold somebody else when
I'm in fault; but I suppose my master would
never think of doing that, else it's a mighty
relief. However, he could eat no tea, and
was altogether put out and gloomy. And
the little faithful imp-lad, perceiving all this
I suppose, got up like a page in an old ballad,
and said he would run for his life across
country to Comberford, and see if he could
not get there before the bags were made up.
So my master gave him the letter, and
nothing more was heard of the poor fellow
till this morning, for the father thought his
son was sleeping in Mr. Horner's barn, as he
does occasionally it seems, and my master
as was very natural, that he had gone to
his father's."

"And he had fallen down the old stone
quarry, had he not?"

"Yes, sure enough. Mr. Gray had been
up here, fretting my lady with some of his
new-fangled schemes, and because the young
man could not have it all his own way, from
what I understand, he was put out, and
thought he would go home by the back lane,
instead of through the village, where the
folks would notice if the parson looked glum.
But, however, it was a mercy, and I don't
mind saying so, ay, and meaning it too,
though it may be like methodism, for as Mr.
Gray walked by the quarry he heard a groan,
and at first he thought it was a lamb fallen
down; and he stood still, and then he heard