Yours immutably,

GILBERT MARKHAM.



CHAPTER II



I perceive, with joy, my most valued friend, that the cloud of your
displeasure has passed away; the light of your countenance blesses
me once more, and you desire the continuation of my story:
therefore, without more ado, you shall have it.

I think the day I last mentioned was a certain Sunday, the latest
in the October of 1827. On the following Tuesday I was out with my
dog and gun, in pursuit of such game as I could find within the
territory of Linden-Car; but finding none at all, I turned my arms
against the hawks and carrion crows, whose depredations, as I
suspected, had deprived me of better prey. To this end I left the
more frequented regions, the wooded valleys, the corn-fields, and
the meadow-lands, and proceeded to mount the steep acclivity of
Wildfell, the wildest and the loftiest eminence in our
neighbourhood, where, as you ascend, the hedges, as well as the
trees, become scanty and stunted, the former, at length, giving
place to rough stone fences, partly greened over with ivy and moss,
the latter to larches and Scotch fir-trees, or isolated
blackthorns. The fields, being rough and stony, and wholly unfit