"I am that. I heard nothing of it. He moves in a great hurry."
"He always moves that way, does Steve."
"How is grandfather?"
"He has had quite a backening since yesterday night. He has got 'the call,' Charlotte. I've had more than one sign of it. Just before he fell he went into the garden, and brought in with him a sprig of 'Death-come-quickly.'[2] 'Father,' I asked, 'whatever made you pull that?' Then he looked so queerly, and answered, 'I didn't pull it, Ducie: I found it on the wall.' He was quite curious, and sent me to ask this one and the other one if they had been in the garden. No one had been there; and, at the long end, he said, 'Make no more talk about it, Ducie. There's them that go up and down the fellside that no one sees. They lift the latch, and wait not for the open door, the king's command being urgent. I have had a message.' He fell an hour afterwards, Charlotte. He did not think he was much hurt at the time, but he got his death-throw. I know it."
"I should like to speak to him, Ducie. Tell him that Charlotte Sandal wants his blessing."
He was lying on the big oak bed in the best room, waiting for his dismissal in cheerful serenity. "Come here, Charlotte," he said; "stoop down, and let me see you once more. My sight grows dim. I am going away, dear."
"O grandfather! is there any thing I can do for you?"
"Be a good girl. Be good, and do good. Stand true to Steve,—remember,—true to Steve." And he did not seem inclined to talk more.
"He is saving his strength for the squire," said Ducie. "He has a deal to say to him."
"Father hoped to be back this afternoon."