By this time Stephen Smith had stepped out upon the quay at Castle Boterel, and breathed his native air. + 

A darker skin, a more pronounced moustache, and an incipient beard, were the chief additions and changes noticeable in his appearance. + 

In spite of the falling rain, which had somewhat lessened, he took a small valise in his hand, and, leaving the remainder of his luggage at the inn, ascended the hills towards East Endelstow. This place lay in a vale of its own, further inland than the west village, and though so near it, had little of physical feature in common with the latter. East Endelstow was more wooded and fertile: it boasted of Lord LuxellianвАЩs mansion and park, and was free from those bleak open uplands which lent such an air of desolation to the vicinage of the coastвБ†вАФalways excepting the small valley in which stood the vicarage and Mrs.¬†SwancourtвАЩs old house, The Crags. + 

Stephen had arrived nearly at the summit of the ridge when the rain again increased its volume, and, looking about for temporary shelter, he ascended a steep path which penetrated dense hazel bushes in the lower part of its course. Further up it emerged upon a ledge immediately over the turnpike-road, and sheltered by an overhanging face of rubble rock, with bushes above. For a reason of his own he made this spot his refuge from the storm, and turning his face to the left, conned the landscape as a book. + 

He was overlooking the valley containing ElfrideвАЩs residence. + 

From this point of observation the prospect exhibited the peculiarity of being either brilliant foreground or the subdued tone of distance, a sudden dip in the surface of the country lowering out of sight all the intermediate prospect. In apparent contact with the trees and bushes growing close beside him appeared the distant tract, terminated suddenly by the brink of the series of cliffs which culminated in the tall giant without a nameвБ†вАФsmall and unimportant as here beheld. A leaf on a bough at StephenвАЩs elbow blotted out a whole hill in the contrasting district far away; a green bunch of nuts covered a complete upland there, and the great cliff itself was outvied by a pygmy crag in the bank hard by him. Stephen had looked upon these things hundreds of times before today, but he had never viewed them with such tenderness as now. + 

Stepping forward in this direction yet a little further, he could see the tower of West Endelstow Church, beneath which he was to meet his Elfride that night. And at the same time he noticed, coming over the hill from the cliffs, a white speck in motion. It seemed first to be a seagull flying low, but ultimately proved to be a human figure, running with great rapidity. The form flitted on, heedless of the rain which had caused StephenвАЩs halt in this place, dropped down the heathery hill, entered the vale, and was out of sight. + 

Whilst he meditated upon the meaning of this phenomenon, he was surprised to see swim into his ken from the same point of departure another moving speck, as different from the first as well could be, insomuch that it was perceptible only by its blackness. Slowly and regularly it took the same course, and there was not much doubt that this was the form of a man. He, too, gradually descended from the upper levels, and was lost in the valley below. + 

The rain had by this time again abated, and Stephen returned to the road. Looking ahead, he saw two men and a cart. They were soon obscured by the intervention of a high hedge. Just before they emerged again he heard voices in conversation. + 

вАЬвАКвАЩA must soon be in the naibourhood, too, if so be heвАЩs a-coming,вАЭ said a tenor tongue, which Stephen instantly recognized as Martin CannisterвАЩs. + 

вАЬвАКвАЩA must вАЩa bвАЩlieve,вАЭ said another voiceвБ†вАФthat of StephenвАЩs father. + 

Stephen stepped forward, and came before them face to face. His father and Martin were walking, dressed in their second best suits, and beside them rambled along a grizzle horse and brightly painted spring-cart. + 

вАЬAll right, Mr.¬†Cannister; hereвАЩs the lost man!вАЭ exclaimed young Smith, entering at once upon the old style of greeting. вАЬFather, here I am.вАЭ + 

вАЬAll right, my sonny; and glad I be forвАЩt!вАЭ returned John Smith, overjoyed to see the young man. вАЬHow be ye? Well, come along home, and donвАЩt letвАЩs bide out here in the damp. Such weather must be terrible bad for a young chap just come from a fiery nation like Indy; hey, naibour Cannister?вАЭ + 

вАЬTrew, trew. And about getting home his traps? Boxes, monstrous bales, and noble packages of foreign description, I make no doubt?вАЭ + 

вАЬHardly all that,вАЭ said Stephen laughing. + 

вАЬWe brought the cart, maning to go right on to Castle Boterel afore ye landed,вАЭ said his father. вАЬвАКвАШPut in the horse,вАЩ says Martin. вАШAy,вАЩ says I, вАШso we will;вАЩ and did it straightway. Now, maybe, Martin had better go on wiвАЩ the cart for the things, and you and I walk home-along.вАЭ + 

вАЬAnd I shall be back aвАЩmost as soon as you. Peggy is a pretty step still, though time dвАЩ begin to tell upon her as upon the rest oвАЩ us.вАЭ + 

Stephen told Martin where to find his baggage, and then continued his journey homeward in the company of his father. + 

вАЬOwing to your coming a day sooner than we first expected,вАЭ said John, вАЬyouвАЩll find us in a turk of a mess, sirвБ†вАФвАШsir,вАЩ says I to my own son! but yeвАЩve gone up so, Stephen. WeвАЩve killed the pig this morning for ye, thinking yeвАЩd be hungry, and glad of a morsel of fresh mate. And вАЩa wonвАЩt be cut up till tonight. However, we can make ye a good supper of fry, which will chaw up well wiвАЩ a dab oвАЩ mustard and a few nice new taters, and a drop of shilling ale to wash it down. Your mother have scrubbed the house through because ye were coming, and dusted all the chimmer furniture, and bought a new basin and jug of a travelling crockery-woman that came to our door, and scoured the cannel-sticks, and claned the winders! Ay, I donвАЩt know what вАЩa haвАЩnвАЩt a done. Never were such a steer, вАЩa bвАЩlieve.вАЭ + 

Conversation of this kind and inquiries of Stephen for his motherвАЩs wellbeing occupied them for the remainder of the journey. When they drew near the river, and the cottage behind it, they could hear the master-masonвАЩs clock striking off the bygone hours of the day at intervals of a quarter of a minute, during which intervals StephenвАЩs imagination readily pictured his motherвАЩs forefinger wandering round the dial in company with the minute-hand. + 

вАЬThe clock stopped this morning, and your mother in putting en right seemingly,вАЭ said his father in an explanatory tone; and they went up the garden to the door. + 

When they had entered, and Stephen had dutifully and warmly greeted his motherвБ†вАФwho appeared in a cotton dress of a dark-blue ground, covered broadcast with a multitude of new and full moons, stars, and planets, with an occasional dash of a comet-like aspect to diversify the sceneвБ†вАФthe crackle of cartwheels was heard outside, and Martin Cannister stamped in at the doorway, in the form of a pair of legs beneath a great box, his body being nowhere visible. When the luggage had been all taken down, and Stephen had gone upstairs to change his clothes, Mrs.¬†SmithвАЩs mind seemed to recover a lost thread. + 

вАЬReally our clock is not worth a penny,вАЭ she said, turning to it and attempting to start the pendulum. + 

вАЬStopped again?вАЭ inquired Martin with commiseration. + 

вАЬYes, sure,вАЭ replied Mrs.¬†Smith; and continued after the manner of certain matrons, to whose tongues the harmony of a subject with a casual mood is a greater recommendation than its pertinence to the occasion, вАЬJohn would spend pounds a year upon the jimcrack old thing, if he might, in having it claned, when at the same time you may doctor it yourself as well. вАШThe clockвАЩs stopped again, John,вАЩ I say to him. вАШBetter have en claned,вАЩ says he. ThereвАЩs five shillings. вАШThat clock grinds again,вАЩ I say to en. вАШBetter have en claned,вАЩ вАЩa says again. вАШThat clock strikes wrong, John,вАЩ says I. вАШBetter have en claned,вАЩ he goes on. The wheels would have been polished to skeletons by this time if I had listened to en, and I assure you we could have bought a chainey-faced beauty wiвАЩ the good money weвАЩve flung away these last ten years upon this old green-faced mortal. And, Martin, you must be wet. My son is gone up to change. John is damper than I should like to be, but вАЩa calls it nothing. Some of Mrs.¬†SwancourtвАЩs servants have been hereвБ†вАФthey ran in out of the rain when going for a walkвБ†вАФand I assure you the state of their bonnets was frightful.вАЭ + 

вАЬHowвАЩs the folks? WeвАЩve been over to Castle Boterel, and what wiвАЩ running and stopping out of the storms, my poor head is beyond everything! fizz, fizz fizz; вАЩtis frying oвАЩ fish from morning to night,вАЭ said a cracked voice in the doorway at this instant. + 

вАЬLord soвАЩs, whoвАЩs that?вАЭ said Mrs.¬†Smith, in a private exclamation, and turning round saw William Worm, endeavouring to make himself look passing civil and friendly by overspreading his face with a large smile that seemed to have no connection with the humour he was in. Behind him stood a woman about twice his size, with a large umbrella over her head. This was Mrs.¬†Worm, WilliamвАЩs wife. + 

вАЬCome in, William,вАЭ said John Smith. вАЬWe donвАЩt kill a pig every day. And you, likewise, Mrs.¬†Worm. I make ye welcome. Since ye left Parson Swancourt, William, I donвАЩt see much of вАЩee.вАЭ + 

вАЬNo, for to tell the truth, since I took to the turnpike-gate line, IвАЩve been out but little, coming to church oвАЩ Sundays not being my duty now, as вАЩtwas in a parsonвАЩs family, you see. However, our boy is able to mind the gate now, and I said, says I, вАШBarbara, letвАЩs call and see John Smith.вАЩвАКвАЭ + 

вАЬI am sorry to hear yer pore head is so bad still.вАЭ + 

вАЬAy, I assure you that frying oвАЩ fish is going on for nights and days. And, you know, sometimes вАЩtisnвАЩt only fish, but rashers oвАЩ bacon and inions. Ay, I can hear the fat pop and fizz as nateral as life; canвАЩt I, Barbara?вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Worm, who had been all this time engaged in closing her umbrella, corroborated this statement, and now, coming indoors, showed herself to be a wide-faced, comfortable-looking woman, with a wart upon her cheek, bearing a small tuft of hair in its centre. + 

вАЬHave ye ever tried anything to cure yer noise, Maister Worm?вАЭ inquired Martin Cannister. + 

вАЬOh ay; bless ye, IвАЩve tried everything. Ay, Providence is a merciful man, and I have hoped HeвАЩd have found it out by this time, living so many years in a parsonвАЩs family, too, as I have, but вАЩa donвАЩt seem to relieve me. Ay, I be a poor wambling man, and lifeвАЩs a mint oвАЩ trouble!вАЭ + 

вАЬTrue, mournful true, William Worm. вАЩTis so. The world wants looking to, or вАЩtis all sixes and sevens wiвАЩ us.вАЭ + 

вАЬTake your things off, Mrs.¬†Worm,вАЭ said Mrs.¬†Smith. вАЬWe be rather in a muddle, to tell the truth, for my son is just dropped in from Indy a day sooner than we expected, and the pig-killer is coming presently to cut up.вАЭ + 

Mrs.¬†Barbara Worm, not wishing to take any mean advantage of persons in a muddle by observing them, removed her bonnet and mantle with eyes fixed upon the flowers in the plot outside the door. + 

вАЬWhat beautiful tiger-lilies!вАЭ said Mrs.¬†Worm. + 

вАЬYes, they be very well, but such a trouble to me on account of the children that come here. They will go eating the berries on the stem, and call вАЩem currants. Taste wiвАЩ junivals is quite fancy, really.вАЭ + 

вАЬAnd your snapdragons look as fierce as ever.вАЭ + 

вАЬWell, really,вАЭ answered Mrs.¬†Smith, entering didactically into the subject, вАЬthey are more like Christians than flowers. But they make up well enough wiвАЩ the rest, and donвАЩt require much tending. And the same can be said oвАЩ these millerвАЩs wheels. вАЩTis a flower I like very much, though so simple. John says he never cares about the flowers oвАЩ вАЩem, but men have no eye for anything neat. He says his favourite flower is a cauliflower. And I assure you I tremble in the springtime, for вАЩtis perfect murder.вАЭ + 

вАЬYou donвАЩt say so, Mrs.¬†Smith!вАЭ + 

вАЬJohn digs round the roots, you know. In goes his blundering spade, through roots, bulbs, everything that hasnвАЩt got a good show above ground, turning вАЩem up cut all to slices. Only the very last fall I went to move some tulips, when I found every bulb upside down, and the stems crooked round. He had turned вАЩem over in the spring, and the cunning creatures had soon found that heaven was not where it used to be.вАЭ + 

вАЬWhatвАЩs that long-favoured flower under the hedge?вАЭ + 

вАЬThey? O Lord, they are the horrid JacobвАЩs ladders! Instead of praising вАЩem, I be mad wiвАЩ вАЩem for being so ready to bide where they are not wanted. They be very well in their way, but I do not care for things that neglect wonвАЩt kill. Do what I will, dig, drag, scrap, pull, I get too many of вАЩem. I chop the roots: up theyвАЩll come, treble strong. Throw вАЩem over hedge; there theyвАЩll grow, staring me in the face like a hungry dog driven away, and creep back again in a week or two the same as before. вАЩTis JacobвАЩs ladder here, JacobвАЩs ladder there, and plant вАЩem where nothing in the world will grow, you get crowds of вАЩem in a month or two. John made a new manure mixen last summer, and he said, вАШMaria, now if youвАЩve got any flowers or suchlike, that you donвАЩt want, you may plant вАЩem round my mixen so as to hide it a bit, though вАЩtis not likely anything of much value will grow there.вАЩ I thought, вАШThereвАЩs them JacobвАЩs ladders; IвАЩll put them there, since they canвАЩt do harm in such a place;вАЩ and I planted the JacobвАЩs ladders sure enough. They growed, and they growed, in the mixen and out of the mixen, all over the litter, covering it quite up. When John wanted to use it about the garden, вАЩa said, вАШNation seize them JacobвАЩs ladders of yours, Maria! TheyвАЩve eat the goodness out of every morsel of my manure, so that вАЩtis no better than sand itself!вАЩ Sure enough the hungry mortals had. вАЩTis my belief that in the secret souls oвАЩ вАЩem, JacobвАЩs ladders be weeds, and not flowers at all, if the truth was known.вАЭ + 

Robert Lickpan, pig-killer and carrier, arrived at this moment. The fatted animal hanging in the back kitchen was cleft down the middle of its backbone, Mrs.¬†Smith being meanwhile engaged in cooking supper. + 

Between the cutting and chopping, ale was handed round, and Worm and the pig-killer listened to John SmithвАЩs description of the meeting with Stephen, with eyes blankly fixed upon the tablecloth, in order that nothing in the external world should interrupt their efforts to conjure up the scene correctly. + 

Stephen came downstairs in the middle of the story, and after the little interruption occasioned by his entrance and welcome, the narrative was again continued, precisely as if he had not been there at all, and was told inclusively to him, as to somebody who knew nothing about the matter. + 

вАЬвАКвАШAy,вАЩ I said, as I catched sight oвАЩ en through the brimbles, вАШthatвАЩs the lad, for I dвАЩ know en by his grandfatherвАЩs walk;вАЩ for вАЩa stapped out like poor father for all the world. Still there was a touch oвАЩ the frisky that set me wondering. вАЩA got closer, and I said, вАШThatвАЩs the lad, for I dвАЩ know en by his carrying a black case like a travelling man.вАЩ Still, a road is common to all the world, and there be more travelling men than one. But I kept my eye cocked, and I said to Martin, вАШвАКвАЩTis the boy, now, for I dвАЩ know en by the wold twirl oвАЩ the stick and the family step.вАЩ Then вАЩa come closer, and aвАЩ said, вАШAll right.вАЩ I could swear to en then.вАЭ + 

StephenвАЩs personal appearance was next criticised. + 

вАЬHe dвАЩ look a deal thinner in face, surely, than when I seed en at the parsonвАЩs, and never knowed en, if yeвАЩll believe me,вАЭ said Martin. + 

вАЬAy, there,вАЭ said another, without removing his eyes from StephenвАЩs face, вАЬI should haвАЩ knowed en anywhere. вАЩTis his fatherвАЩs nose to a T.вАЭ + 

вАЬIt has been often remarked,вАЭ said Stephen modestly. + 

вАЬAnd heвАЩs certainly taller,вАЭ said Martin, letting his glance run over StephenвАЩs form from bottom to top. + 

вАЬI was thinking вАЩa was exactly the same height,вАЭ Worm replied. + 

вАЬBless thy soul, thatвАЩs because heвАЩs bigger round likewise.вАЭ And the united eyes all moved to StephenвАЩs waist. + 

вАЬI be a poor wambling man, but I can make allowances,вАЭ said William Worm. вАЬAh, sure, and how he came as a stranger and pilgrim to Parson SwancourtвАЩs that time, not a soul knowing en after so many years! Ay, lifeвАЩs a strange picter, Stephen: but I suppose I must say Sir to ye?вАЭ + 

вАЬOh, it is not necessary at present,вАЭ Stephen replied, though mentally resolving to avoid the vicinity of that familiar friend as soon as he had made pretensions to the hand of Elfride. + 

вАЬAh, well,вАЭ said Worm musingly, вАЬsome would have looked for no less than a Sir. ThereвАЩs a sight of difference in people.вАЭ + 

вАЬAnd in pigs likewise,вАЭ observed John Smith, looking at the halved carcass of his own. + 

Robert Lickpan, the pig-killer, here seemed called upon to enter the lists of conversation. + 

вАЬYes, theyвАЩve got their particular naters good-now,вАЭ he remarked initially. вАЬManyвАЩs the rum-tempered pig IвАЩve knowed.вАЭ + 

вАЬI donвАЩt doubt it, Master Lickpan,вАЭ answered Martin, in a tone expressing that his convictions, no less than good manners, demanded the reply. + 

вАЬYes,вАЭ continued the pig-killer, as one accustomed to be heard. вАЬOne that I knowed was deaf and dumb, and we couldnвАЩt make out what was the matter wiвАЩ the pig. вАЩA would eat well enough when вАЩa seed the trough, but when his back was turned, you might a-rattled the bucket all day, the poor soul never heard ye. Ye could play tricks upon en behind his back, and aвАЩ wouldnвАЩt find it out no quicker than poor deaf Grammer Cates. But aвАЩ fatted well, and I never seed a pig open better when aвАЩ was killed, and вАЩa was very tender eating, very; as pretty a bit of mate as ever you see; you could suck that mate through a quill. + 

вАЬAnd another I knowed,вАЭ resumed the killer, after quietly letting a pint of ale run down his throat of its own accord, and setting down the cup with mathematical exactness upon the spot from which he had raised itвБ†вАФвАЬanother went out of his mind.вАЭ + 

вАЬHow very mournful!вАЭ murmured Mrs.¬†Worm. + 

вАЬAy, poor thing, вАЩa did! As clean out of his mind as the cleverest Christian could go. In early life вАЩa was very melancholy, and never seemed a hopeful pig by no means. вАЩTwas Andrew StainerвАЩs pigвБ†вАФthatвАЩs whose pig вАЩtwas.вАЭ + 

вАЬI can mind the pig well enough,вАЭ attested John Smith. + 

вАЬAnd a pretty little porker вАЩa was. And you all know Farmer BuckleвАЩs sort? Every jack oвАЩ em suffer from the rheumatism to this day, owing to a damp sty they lived in when they were striplings, as вАЩtwere.вАЭ + 

вАЬWell, now weвАЩll weigh,вАЭ said John. + 

вАЬIf so be he were not so fine, weвАЩd weigh en whole: but as he is, weвАЩll take a side at a time. John, you can mind my old joke, ey?вАЭ + 

вАЬI do so; though вАЩtwas a good few years ago I first heard en.вАЭ + 

вАЬYes,вАЭ said Lickpan, вАЬthat there old familiar joke have been in our family for generations, I may say. My father used that joke regular at pig-killings for more than five and forty yearsвБ†вАФthe time he followed the calling. And вАЩa told me that вАЩa had it from his father when he was quite a chiel, who made use oвАЩ en just the same at every killing more or less; and pig-killings were pig-killings in those days.вАЭ + 

вАЬTrewly they were.вАЭ + 

вАЬIвАЩve never heard the joke,вАЭ said Mrs.¬†Smith tentatively. + 

вАЬNor I,вАЭ chimed in Mrs.¬†Worm, who, being the only other lady in the room, felt bound by the laws of courtesy to feel like Mrs.¬†Smith in everything. + 

вАЬSurely, surely you have,вАЭ said the killer, looking sceptically at the benighted females. вАЬHowever, вАЩtisnвАЩt muchвБ†вАФI donвАЩt wish to say it is. It commences like this: вАШBob will tell the weight of your pig, вАЩa bвАЩlieve,вАЩ says I. The congregation of neighbours think I mane my son Bob, naturally; but the secret is that I mane the bob oвАЩ the steelyard. Ha, ha, ha!вАЭ + 

вАЬHaw, haw, haw!вАЭ laughed Martin Cannister, who had heard the explanation of this striking story for the hundredth time. + 

вАЬHuh, huh, huh!вАЭ laughed John Smith, who had heard it for the thousandth. + 

вАЬHee, hee, hee!вАЭ laughed William Worm, who had never heard it at all, but was afraid to say so. + 

вАЬThy grandfather, Robert, must have been a wide-awake chap to make that story,вАЭ said Martin Cannister, subsiding to a placid aspect of delighted criticism. + 

вАЬHe had a head, by all account. And, you see, as the firstborn of the Lickpans have all been Roberts, theyвАЩve all been Bobs, so the story was handed down to the present day.вАЭ + 

вАЬPoor Joseph, your second boy, will never be able to bring it out in company, which is rather unfortunate,вАЭ said Mrs.¬†Worm thoughtfully. + 

вАЬвАКвАЩA wonвАЩt. Yes, grandfer was a clever chap, as ye say; but I knowed a cleverer. вАЩTwas my uncle Levi. Uncle Levi made a snuffbox that should be a puzzle to his friends to open. He used to hand en round at wedding parties, christenings, funerals, and in other jolly company, and let вАЩem try their skill. This extraordinary snuffbox had a spring behind that would push in and outвБ†вАФa hinge where seemed to be the cover; a slide at the end, a screw in front, and knobs and queer notches everywhere. One man would try the spring, another would try the screw, another would try the slide; but try as they would, the box wouldnвАЩt open. And they couldnвАЩt open en, and they didnвАЩt open en. Now what might you think was the secret of that box?вАЭ + 

All put on an expression that their united thoughts were inadequate to the occasion. + 

вАЬWhy the box wouldnвАЩt open at all. вАЩA were made not to open, and ye might have tried till the end of Revelations, вАЩtwould have been as naught, for the box were glued all round.вАЭ + 

вАЬA very deep man to have made such a box.вАЭ + 

вАЬYes. вАЩTwas like uncle Levi all over.вАЭ + 

вАЬвАКвАЩTwas. I can mind the man very well. Tallest man ever I seed.вАЭ + 

вАЬвАКвАЩA was so. He never slept upon a bedstead after he growed up a hard boy-chapвБ†вАФnever could get one long enough. When вАЩa lived in that little small house by the pond, he used to have to leave open his chamber door every night at going to his bed, and let his feet poke out upon the landing.вАЭ + 

вАЬHeвАЩs dead and gone now, nevertheless, poor man, as we all shall,вАЭ observed Worm, to fill the pause which followed the conclusion of Robert LickpanвАЩs speech. + 

The weighing and cutting up was pursued amid an animated discourse on StephenвАЩs travels; and at the finish, the firstfruits of the dayвАЩs slaughter, fried in onions, were then turned from the pan into a dish on the table, each piece steaming and hissing till it reached their very mouths. + 

It must be owned that the gentlemanly son of the house looked rather out of place in the course of this operation. Nor was his mind quite philosophic enough to allow him to be comfortable with these old-established persons, his fatherвАЩs friends. He had never lived long at homeвБ†вАФscarcely at all since his childhood. The presence of William Worm was the most awkward feature of the case, for, though Worm had left the house of Mr.¬†Swancourt, the being hand-in-glove with a ci-devant servitor reminded Stephen too forcibly of the vicarвАЩs classification of himself before he went from England. Mrs.¬†Smith was conscious of the defect in her arrangements which had brought about the undesired conjunction. She spoke to Stephen privately. + 

вАЬI am above having such people here, Stephen; but what could I do? And your father is so rough in his nature that heвАЩs more mixed up with them than need be.вАЭ + 

вАЬNever mind, mother,вАЭ said Stephen; вАЬIвАЩll put up with it now.вАЭ + 

вАЬWhen we leave my lordвАЩs service, and get further up the countryвБ†вАФas I hope we shall soonвБ†вАФit will be different. We shall be among fresh people, and in a larger house, and shall keep ourselves up a bit, I hope.вАЭ + 

вАЬIs Miss Swancourt at home, do you know?вАЭ Stephen inquired. + 

вАЬYes, your father saw her this morning.вАЭ + 

вАЬDo you often see her?вАЭ + 

вАЬScarcely ever. Mr.¬†Glim, the curate, calls occasionally, but the Swancourts donвАЩt come into the village now any more than to drive through it. They dine at my lordвАЩs oftener than they used. Ah, hereвАЩs a note was brought this morning for you by a boy.вАЭ + 

Stephen eagerly took the note and opened it, his mother watching him. He read what Elfride had written and sent before she started for the cliff that afternoon: + 

Yes; I will meet you in the church at nine tonight.вБ†вАФE. S. + 

вАЬI donвАЩt know, Stephen,вАЭ his mother said meaningly, вАЬwheвАЩr you still think about Miss Elfride, but if I were you I wouldnвАЩt concern about her. They say that none of old Mrs.¬†SwancourtвАЩs money will come to her stepdaughter.вАЭ + 

вАЬI see the evening has turned out fine; I am going out for a little while to look round the place,вАЭ he said, evading the direct query. вАЬProbably by the time I return our visitors will be gone, and weвАЩll have a more confidential talk.вАЭ + 