trusting spirit, and knew poor Philip Feltram, in her simplicity, better
than the shrewdest profligate on earth could have known him. She cried
with him in his misery. She was fired with indignation by these
suspicions, and still more at what followed.

Sir Bale showed no signs of relenting. It might have been that he was
rather glad of so unexceptionable an opportunity of getting rid of
Feltram, who, people thought, knew something which it galled the
Baronet's pride that he should know.

The Baronet had another shorter and sterner interview with Feltram in
his study. The result was, that unless he restored the missing note
before ten o'clock next morning, he should leave Mardykes.

To leave Mardykes was no more than Philip Feltram, feeble as he was of
will, had already resolved. But what was to become of him? He did not
very much care, if he could find any calling, however humble, that would
just give him bread.

There was an old fellow and his wife (an ancient dame,) who lived at the
other side of the lake, on the old territories of the Feltrams, and who,
from some tradition of loyalty, perhaps, were fond of poor Philip
Feltram. They lived somewhat high up on the fells--about as high as
trees would grow--and those which were clumped about their rude dwelling
were nearly the last you passed in your ascent of the mountain. These
people had a multitude of sheep and goats, and lived in their airy
solitude a pastoral and simple life, and were childless. Philip Feltram
was hardy and active, having passed his early days among that arduous
scenery. Cold and rain did not trouble him; and these people being
wealthy in their way, and loving him, would be glad to find him