Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) THE HOUSE ON THE MOOR. BY THE AUTHOR OF "MARGARET MAITLAND," "ADAM GRAEME," "THE LAIRD OF NORLAW," &c., &c. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1861. _The right of Translation is reserved._ LONDON: PRINTED BY R. BORN, GLOUCESTER STREET, REGENT'S PARK. THE HOUSE ON THE MOOR. CHAPTER I. IT was still early, when Susan, somewhat flushed by her rapid walk, and somewhat tired to the boot--for, elastic and strong, and accustomed to exercise as she was, six miles of solitary road, with a bundle to carry, not to say the burden of her desolate circumstances, and the natural timidity which, after a while, replaced her flush of indignant vehemence, was rather an exhausting morning promenade for a girl of nineteen--arrived at Tillington. And, in spite of Peggy's injunctions and her own sense of necessity, it was only with lingering steps, and a painful reluctance, that she at last summoned courage sufficient to present herself at John Gilsland's open door. Once there, however, matters became easy enough, smoothed by Mrs. Gilsland's eager and ready welcome, and by an incident of which Susan had not thought. "Eyeh, miss! but he's gone no moor nor half an hour since," cried Mrs. Gilsland. "Bless us awl! to have a young lady like you come as far, and o'er late, when awl's done! But he was in grit haste, was Mr. Horry. Come into the fire, and rest yoursel', for the like of them long walks at this hour in the morning, they're no for leddy-birds like you. You'll have heard from the Cornel, miss? And how is he?--the dear gentleman! But you're not agoing to stand there, with that white face. Dear heart, sit down, and I'll get a cup of tea in a twinkling. She's clean done with tiredness, and the disappointment. John! if ye had the spirit of a mouse, ye'd goo after Mr. Horry, and bring him back to satisfy miss--there, do ye hear?" "No, Mrs. Gilsland," said Susan, eagerly; "but, please, if John will get the gig, and drive me to the railroad, and perhaps we might overtake my brother. I'm--I'm--I'm--going to see my uncle to Scotland; and Horace would--might, perhaps--see me away."