He walked rapidly down the meadows, and went into his mill.

Then I saw him retracing his steps, examining where the stream entered the bounds of his property.
Finally, he walked off towards the little town at the head of the valley--beyond which, buried in woods, lay Luxmore Hall.

It was two hours more before we saw him again.
Then he came towards us, narrowly watching the stream.

It had sunk more and more--the muddy bottom was showing plainly.
"Yes--that's it--it can be nothing else! I did not think he would have dared to do it." "Do what, John?
Who ?" "Lord Luxmore." He spoke in the smothered tones of violent passion.
"Lord Luxmore has turned out of its course the stream that works my mill." I tried to urge that such an act was improbable; in fact, against the law.
"Not against the law of the great against the little.

Besides, he gives a decent colouring--says he only wants the use of the stream three days a week, to make fountains at Luxmore Hall.