ever the young man knew right well; no thought of a rival, therefore, entered into his calculations.  The sole problem was how quickest to make Mr. Lyddon change his mind; how best to order his future that the miller should regard him as a responsible person, and one of weight in affairs.  Not that Will held himself a slight man by any means; but he felt that he must straightway assert his individuality and convince the world in general and Miller Lyddon in particular of faulty judgment.  He was very angry still as he retraced the recent conversation.  Then, among those various fancies and projects in his mind, the wildest and most foolish stood out before him as both expedient and to be desired.  His purpose in Chagford was to get advice from another man; but before he reached the village his own mind was established.

Slated and thatched roofs glimmered under moonlight, and already the hamlet slept.  A few cats crept like shadows through the deserted streets, from darkness into light, from light back to darkness; and one cottage window, before which Will Blanchard stood, still showed a candle behind a white blind.  Most quaint and ancient was this habitation—­of picturesque build, with tiny granite porch, small entrance, and venerable thatches that hung low above the upper windows.  A few tall balsams quite served to fill the garden; indeed so small was it that from the roadway young Blanchard, by bending over the wooden fence, could easily reach the cottage window.  This he did, tapped lightly, and then waited for the door to be opened.

A man presently appeared and showed some surprise at the sight of his late visitor.

“Let me in, Clem,” said Will.  “I knawed you’d be up, sitting readin’ and dreamin’.  ‘T is no dreamin’ time for me though, by God!  I be corned straight from seeing Miller ’bout Phoebe.”

“Then I can very well guess what was last in your ears.”

Clement Hicks spoke in an educated voice.  He was smaller than Will but evidently older.  Somewhat narrow of build and thin, he looked delicate, though in reality wiry and sound.  He was dark of complexion, wore his hair long for a cottager, and kept both moustache and beard, though the latter was very scant and showed the outline of his small chin through it.  A forehead remarkably lofty but not broad, mounted almost perpendicularly above the man’s eyes; and these were large and dark and full of fire, though marred by a discontented expression.  His mouth was full-lipped, his other features huddled rather meanly together under the high brow:  but his face, while admittedly plain even to ugliness, was not commonplace; for its eyes were remarkable, and the cast of thought ennobled it as a whole.

Will entered the cottage kitchen and began instantly to unfold his experiences.

“You knaw me—­a man with a level head, as leaps after looking, not afore.  I put nothing but plain reason to him and he flouted me like you might a cheel.  An’ I be gwaine to make him eat his words—­such hard words as they was tu!  Think of it!  Me an’ Phoebe never to meet no more!  The folly of sayin’ such a thing!  Wouldn’t ’e reckon that grey hairs knawed better than to fancy words can keep lovers apart?”