It was not until he happened to need his scissors that the terrible fact burst upon him: Eppie had run out by herself--had perhaps fallen into the Stone-pit.

Silas, shaken by the worst fear that could have befallen him, rushed out, calling "Eppie!" and ran eagerly about the unenclosed space, exploring the dry cavities into which she might have fallen, and then gazing with questioning dread at the smooth red surface of the water.

The cold drops stood on his brow.

How long had she been out?
There was one hope--that she had crept through the stile and got into the fields, where he habitually took her to stroll.

But the grass was high in the meadow, and there was no descrying her, if she were there, except by a close search that would be a trespass on Mr.Osgood's crop.
Still, that misdemeanour must be committed; and poor Silas, after peering all round the hedgerows, traversed the grass, beginning with perturbed vision to see Eppie behind every group of red sorrel, and to see her moving always farther off as he approached.