Still human pity is produced by impulses that are happily often independent of our opinions, and when Nat appeared at eleven o’clock as usual, pale, with swollen eyelids, trying hard to hold up his head, he found himself received with a general compassion, which would not even disturb him by too many questions on the event. The housekeeper, indeed, took him apart into her room to ask if he had heard of his sister, and to express pity for his mother, but no one would have imagined from her manner how unfavourably she had spoken of him a little while before. Mrs Cranby was an old institution in the Squire’s household, a handsome old woman, with a manner of simple dignity, with a little red shawl on the shoulders of her gown, and with lilac ribbons in a most ample cap. It might have been well for the boy if he had accepted this opportunity of shewing gratitude for her kindness and of making friends with her, but he was sick and sore with shame and pride that morning, and only longed to be allowed to get to his work. He replied to her sympathy with a few, almost sulky words, and then went at once to the library of the Squire. For the last fortnight he had been accustomed to enter that room between eleven and twelve every morning; and on this occasion he found his master there, as usual, and alone. Long afterwards, when many things had become clear, Nat learned to understand that the morning which succeeded his sister’s flight was a turning-point also for himself; but at the time his mind was entirely occupied with her, and could not consider other possibilities. There were such possibilities in greater measure than he knew; for on one side he had bound himself by a promise which was ill-considered, if not treacherous; and on the other the pity which had been awakened in his master was likely to lead to beneficial consequences. In order that we may understand his position more clearly it is necessary for us to know something of the Squire.