They again wound down beside the rivulet into the meadows below, where the mist alone pointed out the course of the stream. The bat and the beetle crossed their path. Evil things only were abroad. All they saw and felt seemed to be ominous of the future. As they passed through a little wicket to the hall-porch, Nicholas Buckley the father met them. "Why, how now, loiterers? The cushat and the curlew have left the hill, and yet ye are abroad. 'Tis time the maiden were at home and looking after the household." "We've been hindered, good sir. We will just get speech of our dame, and then away home with the gentle Grace. Half-an-hour's good speeding will see her safe." "Ay--belike," said the old man. "Lovers and loiterers make mickle haste to part. Our dame is with the maids and the milkpans i' the dairy." The elder Buckley was a hale hearty yeoman, of a ruddy and cheerful countenance. A few wrinkles were puckered below the eyes; the rest of his face was sleek and comfortably disposed. A beard, once thick and glossy, was grown grey and thin, curling up short and stunted round his portly chin. Two bright twinkling eyes gave note of a stirring and restless temper--too sanguine, maybe, for success in the great and busy world, and not fitted either by education or disposition for its suspicions or its frauds. Yet he had the reputation of a clever merchant. Rochdale, even at that early period, was a well-known mart for the buyers and sellers of woollen stuffs and friezes. Many of the most wealthy merchants, too, indulged in foreign speculations and adventures, and amongst these the name of Nicholas Buckley was not the least conspicuous. They passed on to the dairy, where Dame Eleanor scolded the maids and skimmed the cream at the same moment, by way of economy in time. "What look ye for here?" was her first inquiry, for truly her temper was of a hasty and searching nature; somewhat prone, as well, to cavilling and dispute, requiring much of her husband's placidity to furnish oil for the turbulent waters of her disposition. "Thou wert better at thy father's desk than idling after thine unthrifty pleasures: to-morrow, maybe, sauntering among the hills with hound and horn, beating up with all the rabble in the parish." "Nay, mother, chide not: I was never made for merchandise and barter--the price of fleeces in Tod Lane, and the broad ells at Manchester market." "And why not?" said the dame, sharply; "haven't I been the prop and stay of the house? Haven't I made bargains and ventures when thou hast been idling in hall and bower with love-ditties and ladies' purfles?" She was now moved to sudden choler, and Gervase did not dare to thwart her further--letting the passion spend itself by its own efforts, as he knew it were vain to check its torrent.