A fire blazed cheerily in the parlour, almost dazzling to the travellers brought in from the darkness and the rain; candles burned--two candles, much to Phoebe's discontent.

Poor Bell Robson had to sit down almost as soon as she entered the room, so worn out was she with fatigue and excitement; yet she grudged every moment which separated her, as she thought, from her husband.
'I'm ready now,' said she, standing up, and rather repulsing Sylvia's cares; 'I'm ready now,' said she, looking eagerly at Philip, as if for him to lead the way.
'It's not to-night,' replied he, almost apologetically.

'You can't see him to-night; it's to-morrow morning before he goes to York; it was better for yo' to be down here in town ready; and beside I didn't know when I sent for ye that he was locked up for the night.' 'Well-a-day, well-a-day,' said Bell, rocking herself backwards and forwards, and trying to soothe herself with these words.

Suddenly she said,-- 'But I've brought his comforter wi' me--his red woollen comforter as he's allays slept in this twelvemonth past; he'll get his rheumatiz again; oh, Philip, cannot I get it to him ?' 'I'll send it by Phoebe,' said Philip, who was busy making tea, hospitable and awkward.
'Cannot I take it mysel' ?' repeated Bell.

'I could make surer nor anybody else; they'd maybe not mind yon woman--Phoebe d'ye call her ?' 'Nay, mother,' said Sylvia, 'thou's not fit to go.' 'Shall I go ?' asked Philip, hoping she would say 'no', and be content with Phoebe, and leave him where he was.
'Oh, Philip, would yo' ?' said Sylvia, turning round.
'Ay,' said Bell, 'if thou would take it they'd be minding yo'.' So there was nothing for it but for him to go, in the first flush of his delightful rites of hospitality.
'It's not far,' said he, consoling himself rather than them.