One safeguard was lost to Annie, for Tim could not see her now; he had been removed to the Farm, where he lay ill, watched over with tenderness by Alice and her mother, but shut out from all other society by the doctor’s law. He had been removed to the Farm before his consciousness returned--otherwise he might possibly have preferred the cottage in the Thackbusk lane--and perhaps in his heart he felt some slight impatience at the restraint which kept him in his room. But Mrs Robson was kind, and her daughter very helpful, and it would have been ungrateful to show discontent to them. He liked to think that Annie must be anxious, and that when he was stronger he would visit her again; Alice did not tell him that Annie Salter made no inquiries, nor even Nat, though he was often at the Farm. In her heart she blamed both the brother and the sister for their silence, but she imagined that some feeling of shame made them conceal the interest they felt. For it was known that their father’s hand had struck the blow--there was not a man in the village who was not aware of the fact. And Nat seemed altered; he had an uneasy, hungry look, as if for some reason all was not well with him. So matters were going on that August afternoon when Mr James Gillan mounted his horse in the Manor yard, whilst the pigeons sunned themselves upon the roofs. A well-dressed, slender-figured, well-appointed gentleman, he aroused the admiration of the boy who held his horse; even though he appeared to be in a state of abstraction from which he could not rouse himself to any expression of gratitude in the shape of thanks or fee. Was it possible that in the mind of this easy-tempered gentleman were some perplexities that he knew not how to solve, that some woven threads that he could not disentangle were beginning unpleasantly to cling about his life? His delicate eyebrows were knitted, almost frowning, above the languid eyelids that drooped upon his eyes; and he did not raise his head to where, from a passage window, his sister stood watching his departure from the yard. He passed the red School-house with its white lilies, and, taking the turn to Lindum, rode on to the town. CHAPTER XV MR JAMES GILLAN MEETS HIS UNCLE THE white sun was sinking lower in the west, above the valley at the foot of Lindum hill, when Mr Lee rose from his chair in his private apartment to welcome the nephew who was shown into his room. It was the first time, in the course of their mutual lives, that the nephew had set foot in his uncle’s house.