"No I can't," screamed the woman, at the top of her shrill voice, "and don't mean to try. Sunday's the only day I've got, that I can call my own, an' I go to see the neighbours, an' to hear the news. Yer should be satisfied, Mrs. Martin, marm, that I go to hear yer husband preach once a day, without wanting to take away the children, an' spoil em for work, wi' yer book larnin' an' nonsense. So good day to you," and the coarse vixen flung the door in the lady's face, and indulged within her own castle in a hearty fit of laughter. "This is not very encouraging, Dorothy," said Mrs. Martin. "Lord Wilton will find more difficulty in establishing his school than he anticipates. It is hard to deal with these ignorant people; but their rudeness must not discourage us from the performance of our duty." "If Mr. Martin will give out, after service to-morrow," said Dorothy, "that he will instruct all the children who like to come from the next parish, I think we should soon get plenty of scholars." "You would provoke them to jealousy." "Yes, and it will be sure to succeed. That woman who refused to send her children just now, would let them come, rather than have another woman's children from Storby enjoy the privilege she refused." Dorothy's suggestion was acted upon. The Storby people were invited to send their children to Lord Wilton's school. The Hadstone folks were provoked to emulation, and the next Sunday the school room was filled to overflowing, and Dorothy and Mrs. Martin commenced their labours in earnest. CHAPTER II. GILBERT'S GOOD FORTUNE. Lord Wilton had been absent in London for several weeks. The Rushmeres had received no tidings of Gilbert, and the time would have passed drearily enough for Dorothy, but for her lessons and the increasing work at the school. One bright March morning, Dorothy was alone in the big room at the Farm spinning, and, as usual, pondering over the fate of her absent lover, when her day-dream was disturbed by a sharp rap at the door from the butt end of a riding-whip. The whirr of the wheel ceased, and Dorothy opened the door. It was Lord Wilton himself, looking thinner and paler than when she had before seen him. He raised his hat with a melancholy smile, as Dorothy stood blushing and awe-struck on the threshold. "I bring you good news of your lover, Dorothy, and here is a letter from the youth himself to his father, which came enclosed in one I have just received from my son." Dorothy's colour went and came, as she took the letter from the nobleman's outstretched hand. "Will your lordship be pleased to alight?" "Not to-day. My presence would spoil the delight of reading that letter, which you will be sure to do the moment I am out of sight. But I must tell you," he continued, bending down kindly from his horse, and addressing Dorothy in a most earnest manner, "what, perhaps, Gilbert Rushmere may omit to do in that letter, and which I know will please you all."