The Red Deeps was always a favourite place to Maggie to walk in.  An old stone quarry, so long exhausted that both mounds and hollows were now clothed with brambles and trees, and with here and there a stretch of grass which a few sheep kept close nibbled.  This was the Red Deeps, and it was here in June that Maggie once more met Philip Wakem, five years after their first meeting at Mr. Stelling’s.  He told her that she was much more beautiful than he had thought she would be, and assured her, in answer to the difficulties she raised as to their meeting, that there was no enmity in his father’s mind.

And Maggie went home with an inward conflict already begun, and Philip went home to do nothing but remember and hope.

In the following April they met again, after Philip had been abroad.

And now he took her hand, and asked her the simple question, “Do you love me?”

“I think I could hardly love anyone better; there is nothing but what I love you for,” Maggie answered.  But she pointed out how impossible even their friendship was, if it were discovered.

Philip, on his side, refused to give up hope, and before they parted that day she had kissed him.

Tom intervened before the next visit to the Red Deeps.  He had heard that Philip Wakem had been seen there with his sister, and Maggie admitted, on his questioning her, that she had told Philip that she loved him.

“Now, then, Maggie,” Tom said coldly, “there are but two courses for you to take.  Either you vow solemnly to me, with your hand on father’s Bible, that you will never have another meeting or speak another word in private to Philip Wakem, or you refuse and I tell my father everything!”

In vain Maggie pleaded.  Tom was obdurate, and she repeated the words of renunciation.

But that was not enough for Tom Tulliver; he accompanied Maggie to Red Deeps, and in a voice of harsh scorn told Philip that he had been taking a mean, unmanly advantage.

“It was for my father’s sake, Philip,” said Maggie, imploringly.  “Tom threatens to tell my father—­and he couldn’t bear it.  I have promised, I have vowed solemnly, that we will not have any intercourse without my brother’s knowledge.”

“It is enough, Maggie. I shall not change, but I wish you to hold yourself entirely free.  But trust me—­remember that I can never seek for anything but good to what belongs to you.”

Tom only replied with angry contempt, and led Maggie away.  All his sister’s remonstrances he answered with cold obstinacy.

For his character in its strength was hard.  Tom had laboured to one end in these years:  to pay off his father’s creditors, and regain Dorlcote Mill.  By his industry, and by some successful private ventures in trade, the day came when the first of the objects was realised, and Mr. Tulliver lived to see himself free of debt.

But Mr. Tulliver’s satisfaction was short-lived.  Excited by the dinner given to celebrate the payment of his creditors, he met Mr. Wakem near the mill.  From angry words it came to blows, and Tulliver fell on the lawyer furiously, only ceasing from attack when Maggie and Mrs. Tulliver appeared.  Wakem went off without serious injury, but Tulliver only lived through the night; the excitement had killed him.