'I'll get my wraps and go with thee.' 'Thou shall do niver such a thing,' said Sylvia.

'Thou's too frail to go out i' t' night air such a night as this.' 'Then call Kester up.' 'Not I.I'm noane afraid o' t' dark.' 'But of what thou mayst meet i' t' dark, lass ?' Sylvia shivered all over at the sudden thought, suggested by this speech of her mother's, that the idea that had flashed into her own mind of going to look for her father might be an answer to the invocation to the Powers which she had made not long ago, that she might indeed meet her dead lover at the ash-field stile; but though she shivered as this superstitious fancy came into her head, her heart beat firm and regular; not from darkness nor from the spirits of the dead was she going to shrink; her great sorrow had taken away all her girlish nervous fear.
She went; and she came back.

Neither man nor spirit had she seen; the wind was blowing on the height enough to sweep all creatures before it; but no one was coming.
So they sate down again to keep watch.

At length his step was heard close to the door; and it startled them even in their state of expectation.
'Why, feyther!' cried Sylvia as he entered; while his wife stood up trembling, but not saying a word.
'A'm a'most done up,' said he, sitting heavily down on the chair nearest the door.
'Poor old feyther!' said Sylvia, stooping to take off his heavy clogged shoes; while Bell took the posset out of the oven.
'What's this?
posset?
what creatures women is for slops,' said he; but he drank it all the same, while Sylvia fastened the door, and brought the flaring candle from the window-seat.

The fresh arrangement of light displayed his face blackened with smoke, and his clothes disarranged and torn.
'Who's been melling wi' thee ?' asked Bell.
'No one has melled wi' me; but a've been mellin' wi' t' gang at last.' 'Thee: they niver were for pressing thee!' exclaimed both the women at once.
'No! they knowed better.