Rotha was by her side, and Willy lay on the settle drawn up to the hearth.

All listened for the sound of footsteps that did not come.
The old clock ticked out louder and more loud; the cricket's measured chirp seemed to grow more painfully audible; the wind whistled through the leafless boughs without, and in the lulls of the abating storm the low rumble of the ghyll could be heard within.

What kept Ralph away?
It was no unusual thing for him to be abroad from dawn to dusk, but the fingers of the clock were approaching eleven, and still he did not come.

On this night, of all others, he must have wished to be at home.
Earlier in the evening Rotha had found occasion to go on some errand to the neighboring farm, and there she had heard that towards noon Ralph had been seen on horseback crossing Stye Head towards Wastdale.
Upon reporting this at the Moss, the old dame had seemed to be relieved.
"He thinks of everything," she had said.

All that day she had cherished the hope that it would be possible to bury Angus over the hills, at Gosforth.