When Susan, his daughter, was about seventeen, one Michael Hurst was
farm-servant at Yew Nook. He worked with the master, and lived with
the family, and was in all respects treated as an equal, except in
the field. His father was a wealthy statesman at Wythburne, up
beyond Grasmere; and through Michael's servitude the families had
become acquainted, and the Dixons went over to the High Beck sheep-
shearing, and the Hursts came down by Red Bank and Loughrig Tarn and
across the Oxenfell when there was the Christmas-tide feasting at Yew
Nook. The fathers strolled round the fields together, examined
cattle and sheep, and looked knowing over each other's horses. The
mothers inspected the dairies and household arrangements, each openly
admiring the plans of the other, but secretly preferring their own.
Both fathers and mothers cast a glance from time to time at Michael
and Susan, who were thinking of nothing less than farm or dairy, but
whose unspoken attachment was, in all ways, so suitable and natural a
thing that each parent rejoiced over it, although with characteristic
reserve it was never spoken about--not even between husband and wife.
Susan had been a strong, independent, healthy girl; a clever help to
her mother, and a spirited companion to her father; more of a man in
her (as he often said) than her delicate little brother ever would
have.
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