Much had already been done by Will before he crept after the apple-christeners and accomplished his meeting with Phoebe.  A week was passed since Clement wrote the final crushing news, and during that interval Will had been stopping with his uncle, Joel Ford, at Newton Abbot.  Fate, hard till now, played him passing fair at last.  The old Superintendent Registrar still had a soft corner in his heart for Will, and when he learnt the boy’s trouble, though of cynic mind in all matters pertaining to matrimony, he chose to play the virtuous and enraged philosopher, much to his nephew’s joy.  Mr. Ford promised Will he should most certainly have the law’s aid to checkmate his dishonourable adversary; he took a most serious view of the case and declared that all thinking men must sympathise with young Blanchard under such circumstances.  But in private the old gentleman rubbed his hands, for here was the very opportunity he desired as much as a man well might—­the chance to strike at one who had shamefully wronged him.  His only trouble was how best to let John Grimbal know whom he had to thank for this tremendous reverse; for that deed he held necessary to complete his revenge.

As to where Will had come from, or whither he was returning, after his marriage Joel Ford cared not.  The youngster once wedded would be satisfied; and his uncle would be satisfied too.  The procedure of marriage by license requires that one of the parties shall have resided within the Superintendent’s district for a space of fifteen days preceding the giving of notice; then application in prescribed form is made to the Registrar; and his certificate and license are usually received one clear day later.  Thus a resident in a district can be married at any time within eight-and-forty hours of his decision.  Will Blanchard had to stop with his uncle nine or ten days more to complete the necessary fortnight, and as John Grimbal’s marriage morning was as yet above three weeks distant, Phoebe’s fate in no way depended upon him.

Mr. Ford explained the position to Will, and the lover accepted it cheerfully.

“As to the marriage, that’ll be hard and fast as a bench of bishops can make it; but wedding a woman under age, against the wish of her legal guardian, is an offence against the law.  Nobody can undo the deed itself, but Miller Lyddon will have something to say afterwards.  And there’s that blustering blackguard, John Grimbal, to reckon with.  Unscrupulous scoundrel!  Just the sort to be lawless and vindictive if what you tell me concerning him is true.”

“And so he be; let un!  Who cares a brass button for him?  ’T is awnly Miller I thinks of.  What’s worst he can do?”

“Send you to prison, Will.”

“For how long?”

“That I can’t tell you exactly.  Not for marrying his daughter of course, but for abduction—­that’s what he’ll bring against you.”

“An’ so he shall, uncle, an’ I’ll save him all the trouble I can.  That’s no gert hardship—­weeks, or months even.  I’ll go like a lark, knawin’ Phoebe’s safe.”