Billy laughed at this thought.  His back rounded as he sat in his chair, his head seemed to rise off his lower jaw, and the yellow frill of hair under his chin stood stiffly out.

“He’s my son-in-law; you ’pear to forget that, Blee,” said Mr. Lyddon; “I’m sure I wish I could, if ‘twas even now an’ again.”

Thereupon Billy straightened his face and cast both rancour and merriment to the winds.

“Why, so he be; an’ grey hairs should allus make allowance for the young youths; though I ain’t forgot that spadeful o’ muck yet, an’ never shall.  But theer’s poison in bwoy’s blood what awnly works out of the brain come forty.  I’m sure I wish nothing but well to un.  He’s got his saving graces, same as all of us, if we could but see ’em; an’ come what may, God looks arter His awn chosen fules, so theer’s hope even for Blanchard.”  “Cold consolation,” said Mr. Lyddon wearily; “but’t is all we’ve got.  Two nights since I dreamt I saw un starvin’ on a dunghill.  ’T was a parable, I judge, an’ meant Newtake Farm.”

CHAPTER IV

DEFEATED HOPES

Below Newtake Farm the river Teign wound, with many a foaming fall and singing rapid, to confluence with her twin sister in the valley beneath.  Here, at a certain spot, above the forest and beneath the farm, stood Martin Grimbal on a bright afternoon in May.  Over his head rose a rowan, in a soft cloud of serrated foliage, with clusters of grey-green flower buds already foretelling the crimson to come; about his feet a silver army of uncurling fronds brightened the earth and softened the sharp edges of the boulders scattered down the coomb.  Here the lover waited to the music of a cuckoo, and his eyes ever turned towards a stile at the edge of the pine woods, two hundred yards distant from him.

The hour was one of tremendous possibilities, because Fate had been occupied with Martin through many days, and now he stood on the brink of great joy or sorrow.  Clement Hicks had never spoken to him.  During his quarrel with Chris, which lasted a fortnight, the bee-keeper purposely abstained from doing her bidding, while after their reconciliation every other matter in the world was swallowed up for a time in the delight of renewed love-making.  The girl, assuming throughout these long weeks that Martin now knew all, had met him in frank and kindly spirit on those occasions when he planned to enjoy her society, and this open warmth awoke renewed heart for Grimbal, who into her genial friendship read promise and from it recruited hope.  His love now dominated his spiritual being and filled his life.  Grey granite was grey granite only, and no more.  During his long walks by pillar-stone, remote row, and lonely circle, Chris, and Chris alone, occupied his brain.  He debated the advisability of approaching Will, then turned rather to the thought of sounding Mrs. Blanchard, and finally nerved himself to right action and determined to address Chris. He felt this present heart-shaking suspense must be laid at rest, for the peace of his soul, and therefore he took his courage in his hands and faced the ordeal.