Thus the matter stood, and Mr. Lyddon held his hand until young Blanchard was abroad again and seeking work.  Then he acted, as shall appear.  Before that event, however, incidents befell Will’s household, the first being an unexpected visit from Martin Grimbal; for the love-sick antiquary nerved himself to this great task a week after his excursion to Cosdon.  He desired to see Will, and was admitted without comment by Mrs. Blanchard.  The sufferer, who sat at the kitchen fire with his arm still in a sling, received Martin somewhat coldly, being ignorant of the visitor’s friendly intentions.  Chris was absent, and Will’s mother, after hoping that Mr. Grimbal would not object to discuss his business in the kitchen, departed and left the men together.

“Sit down,” said Will.  “Be you come for your brother or yourself?”

“For myself.  I want to make my position clear.  You must not associate me with John in this affair.  In most things our interests were the same, and he has been a brother in a thousand to me; but concerning Miss—­Mrs. Blanchard—­he erred in my opinion—­greatly erred—­and I told him so.  Our relations are unhappily strained, to my sorrow.  I tell you this because I desire your friendship.  It would be good to me to be friends with you and your family.  I do not want to lose your esteem by a misunderstanding.”

“That’s fair speech, an’ I’m glad to hear ’e say it, for it ban’t my fault when a man quarrels wi’ me, as anybody will tell ‘e.  An’ mother an’ Chris will be glad.  God knaws I never felt no anger ’gainst your brother, till he tried to take my girl away from me.  Flesh an’ blood weern’t gwaine to suffer that.”

“Under the circumstances, and with all the difficulties of your position, I never could blame you.”

“Nor Phoebe,” said the other warmly.  “I won’t have wan word said against her.  Absolute right she done.  I’m sick an’ savage, even now, to think of all she suffered for me.  I grits my teeth by night when it comes to my mind the mort o’ grief an’ tears an’ pain heaped up for her—­just because she loved wan chap an’ not another.”

“Let the past go and look forward.  The future will be happy presently.”

“In the long run ’t will for sure.  Your brother’s got all he wants, I reckon, an’ I doan’t begrudge him a twinge; but I hope theer ban’t no more wheer that comed from, for his awn sake, ’cause if us met unfriendly again, t’ other might go awver the bridge, an’ break worse ’n his arm.”

“No, no, Blanchard, don’t talk and think like that.  Let the past go.  My brother will return a wiser man, I pray, with his great disappointment dulled.”

“A gert disappointment!  To be catched out stealin’, an’ shawed up for a thief!”

“Well, forgive and forget.  It’s a valuable art—­to learn to forget.”

“You wait till you ‘m faaced wi’ such trouble, an’ try to forget!  But we ‘m friends, by your awn shawm’, and I be glad ’t is so.  Ax mother to step in from front the house, will ’e?  I’d wish her to know how we ’m standin’.”