The farm-lands stretched down gently into a beautiful rich valley, lying nicely sheltered by the high platform of the moor.

When the ground began to rise again, miles and miles away, it led up to a country house called Holme Manor, belonging to a gentleman named Knifton.

Mr.Knifton had lately married a young lady whom my mother had nursed, and whose kindness and friendship for me, her foster-sister, I shall remember gratefully to the last day of my life.

These and other slight particulars it is necessary to my story that I should tell you, and it is also necessary that you should be especially careful to bear them well in mind.
My father was by trade a stone-mason.

His cottage stood a mile and a half from the nearest habitation.