There was no mistaking the genuine concern, and sympathy, and sorrow written on their faces, when Roger went out to meet them, and the sight of them nearly unmanned him again. He had been very calm all the morning; had breakfasted with his sister and Frank, as usual; had said to the latter that it would be well enough to send for Lawyer Schofield, who was not now a resident of Belvidere, but was practising in Springfield; and had tried to quiet old Hester, who was giving loose rein to her tongue, and holding herself loftily above the “pertenders,” as she called them. He had also remembered Magdalen, and sent her a bouquet of flowers by Celine, who represented her as feverish and nervous, and too tired to leave her bed. Roger did not gather from Celine’s report that she was very ill, only tired and worn; so he felt no particular anxiety for her, and devoted himself to standing between and keeping within bounds the other members of his household, and in so doing felt a tolerable degree of quiet, until the men came up from the mill, when the sight of their faces, so full of pity, and the warm grasp of their friendly hands, brought a sudden rush of tears to his eyes, and his chin quivered a little when he first spoke to them. “We’ve heard about it, Mr. Irving,” the speaker said, “and we don’t like it, any of us, and we hope it is not true, and we are sent by the others who are down on the green, and who want you to come and tell us if it is true, and what we are to do.” Mrs. Walter Scott, sitting by her chamber window, saw the three men walk down the avenue, with Roger in their midst, and saw, too, in the distance the crowd congregated in front of the mill, and felt for a moment a thrill of fear as she began to realize, more and more, what taking Millbank from Roger meant. She would have felt still more uneasy could she have seen the faces of the crowd, and their eager rush for Roger when he appeared. The women and the young girls were the first to pounce upon him, and were the most voluble in their words of sorrow, and surprise, and indignation, while the men and boys were not far behind. Bewildered and too much overcome at first to speak, Roger stood like some father in the midst of his children, from whom he is soon to be separated. He had been absent from them for years, but his kindness and generosity had reached them across the sea. They had lighter tasks, and higher wages, and more holidays, and forbearance, and patience than any class of workmen for miles and miles around, and they knew it all came from Roger’s generosity, and the exceeding great kindness of his heart, and they were grateful for it.