“I was wrong, Will—­quite wrong.  I’ve been thinking, tu.  He mustn’t knaw, nor yet mother, nor nobody.  Quite enough knaws as ’t is.”

“What’s the wisdom o’ talkin’ like that?  Who ’s gwaine to hide the thing, even if they wanted to?  God knaws I ban’t.  I’d like, so well as not, to go up Chagford next market-day an’ shout out the business afore the world.”

“You can’t now.  You must wait.  You promised.  I thought about it with every inch of my brain last night, an’ I got a sort of feeling—­I caan’t explain, but wait.  I’ve trusted you all my life long an’ allus shall; now ’t is your turn to trust me, just this wance.  I’ve got great thoughts.  I see the way; I may do much myself.  You see, Jan Grimbal—­”

Will stood still with his chin half shorn.

“You dare to do that,” he said, “an’ I’ll raise Cain in this plaace; I’ll—­”

He broke off and laughed at himself.

“Here be I blusterin’ like a gert bully now!  Doan’t be feared, Phoebe.  Forgive my noise.  You mean so well, but you caan’t hide your secrets, fortunately.  Bless your purty eyes—­tu gude for me, an’ allus was, braave li’l woman!

“But no more of that—­no seekin’ him, an’ no speech with him, if that’s the way your poor, silly thought was.  My bones smart to think of you bearin’ any of it.  But doan’t you put no oar into this troubled water, else the bwoat’ll capsize, sure as death.  I’ve promised ’e not to say a word till arter New Year; now you must promise me never, so help you, to speak to that man, or look at un, or listen to a word from un.  Fly him like you would the devil; an’ a gude second to the devil he is—­if ’t is awnly in the matter o’ patience.  Promise now.”

“You ’m so hasty, Will.  You doan’t onderstand a woman’s cleverness in such matters.  ’T is just the fashion thing as shaws what we ’m made of.”

“Promise!” he thundered angrily.  “Now, this instant moment, in wan word.”

She gave him a single defiant glance.  Then the boldness of her eyes faded and her lips drooped at the corners.

“I promise, then.”

“I should think you did.”

A few minutes later Will was gone, and Phoebe dabbed her moist eyes and blamed herself for so clumsily revealing her great intention,—­to see John Grimbal and plead with him.  This secret ambition was now swept away, and she knew not where to turn or how to act for her husband.

CHAPTER XII

NEW YEAR’S EVE AND NEW YEAR’S DAY

From this point in his career Will Blanchard, who lacked all power of hiding his inner heart, soon made it superficially apparent that new troubles had overtaken him.  No word concerning his intolerable anxieties escaped him, but a great cloud of tribulation encompassed every hour, and was revealed to others by increased petulance and shortness of temper.  This mental friction quickly appeared on the young man’s