Michael uttered an ‘ah!’ of pleasure and relief when he saw the mighty figure lounge into the room. ‘You here, Roger?’ he said, jumping up and grasping his hand. ‘Was it my letter? Did you take the alarm?’ ‘Ay! I could not rest another day without coming to see that child. She scarcely ever mentions her health; indeed, never; so it never occurred to me that there could be anything the matter with her.’ ‘Then, my dear fellow, you must prepare yourself for a very disagreeable surprise, that’s all. But have some dinner now, and you can go down and see her afterwards.’ Another place was set for Roger, who made a praiseworthy effort to eat his dinner, and to talk as if nothing had happened. He could, however, scarcely sit out the meal, and the instant it was over he rose. ‘I’ve come to you feeling sure you would put me up, Michael. I’ve got what they call in Leeds “the week-end,” and must go off again by the late train from Darlington on Sunday night.’ ‘Of course you will put up here, and I’ll drive you into Darlington on Sunday. I suppose you’ll go out now?’ ‘Yes. Don’t expect me back till you see me,’ said Roger, going away; and directly afterwards, Michael heard the door shut after him. CHAPTER XXXIII BROKEN OFF Despite that cutting east wind, it was a glorious May evening. The trees and fields were coming on grandly, and the sun shone dazzlingly towards his decline, in a heaven of bright blue and gold, with piles of glorified clouds in a steady bank to the north. The beams shone slantingly all on the old brown houses, and their rays were flashed back from the windows of the quaint old sleepy town. As Roger walked down the street, his heart beating with foreboding, he was but vaguely conscious of the stir of life around him, the murmur and bustle of those whose day’s work was done, and who were enjoying their pipes, their gossip, and their games; for in one part of the town the youths played quoits in an open space, while many reverend elders looked on, and made sententious remarks as the sport progressed. He was conscious of receiving here and there a greeting; he returned them vaguely, and went on his way, and presently found himself within Mr. Dixon’s shop, which looked very mean and low and small, and which seemed quite filled by his tall and broad figure. Mr. Dixon was alone in the shop. ‘Bless my soul, Roger—you!’ he exclaimed. ‘Yes,’ replied Roger. ‘I got a couple of days’ holiday, so I thought I’d run over and see Ada. Is she in?’ ‘Yes, she’s in. You’ll find her upstairs at her piano. The wife has gone out to tea. And look you, Roger,’ he added, drawing the young man aside, and lowering his voice, though they were alone, ‘Ada has got uncommon twiny and washed-out looking, and has taken to singing the most sentimental songs. I declare it makes me feel quite low in my mind to hear her constantly wailing and wailing. Try to cheer her up a bit.’ ‘That I will!’