“Long an’ short is,” cut in Billy, who much desired to air a little of his new knowledge, “that he can get a sentence inside the limits of two years, with or without hard labour; at mercy of judge and jury.  That’s his dose or not his dose, ’cording to the gracious gudeness of Miller.”

“Will’s nearly ready to go,” said Clement.  “Let his arm once be restored, and he’ll do your hard labour with a good heart, I promise you.  He wants to please Mr. Lyddon, and will tackle two months or two years or twenty.”

“Two an’ not a second less—­with hard labour I’ll wager, when all’s taken into account.”

“Why are you so hot, Billy Blee?  You’re none the worse.”

“Billy’s very jealous for me, same as Elijah was for the Lard o’ Hosts,” said Mr. Lyddon.

Then Martin and Clement climbed the steep hill that lay between them and Chagford, while the miller and his man pursued their way through the valley.

CHAPTER XII

A STORY-BOOK

Despite the miller’s explicit declaration, there was yet a doubt as to what he might do in the matter of Will Blanchard.  Six weeks is a period of time that has often served to cool dispositions more fiery, purposes more inflexible than those of Mr. Lyddon, and his natural placidity of temperament, despite outbreaks, had begun to reassert itself.  Billy Blee, misunderstanding his master in this, suspected that the first fires of rage were now sunk into a conflagration, not so visible, but deeper and therefore more dangerous to the sufferer, if not to other people.  He failed to observe that each day of waiting lessened the miller’s desire towards action, and he continued to urge some step against Will Blanchard, as the only road by which his master’s peace of mind might be regained.  He went further, and declared delay to be very dangerous for Mr. Lyddon’s spleen and other physical organs.  But though humanity still prevented any definite step, Billy’s master so far adopted his advice as to see a solicitor and learn what the law’s power might be in the matter.  Now he knew, as was recorded in the previous chapter; and still Mr. Lyddon halted between two opinions.  He usually spoke on the subject as he had spoken to Martin Grimbal and Clement Hicks; but in reality he felt less desire in the direction of revenge than he pretended.  Undoubtedly his daughter contributed not a little to this irresolution of mind.  During the period of Will’s convalescence, his wife conducted herself with great tact and self-restraint.  Deep love for her father not only inspired her, but also smoothed difficulties from a road not easy.  Phoebe kept much out of sight until the miller’s first dismay and sorrow had subsided; then she crept back into her old position and by a thousand deft deeds and proper speeches won him again unconsciously.  She anticipated his unspoken desire, brightened his every-day life by unobtrusive actions, preserved a bright demeanour, never mentioned Will, and never contradicted her father when he did so.