The people think his manners perfect.

''Ee 'as a way wi' un,' said an old labourer to me last week.

'If 'ee wor to coe the wild birds, I do believe, Muster Raeburn, they'd coom to un!'" "Yet you dislike him!" said Marcella, a daring smile dancing on the dark face she turned to him.

"One can hear it in every word you say." He hesitated, trying, even at the moment that an impulse of jealous alarm which astonished himself had taken possession of him, to find the moderate and measured phrase.
"I have known him from a boy," he said.

"He is a connection of the Levens, and used to be always there in old days.