It was Rosa who opened the door to him.  On recognizing him she started, and he followed her into the dining-room.  He seated himself, and began, brusquely: 

‘I’ve coom, Miss Rosa, t’ speak t’ Mr. Blencarn.’

Then added, eyeing her closely: 

‘Ye’re lookin’ sick, lass.’

Her faint smile accentuated the worn, white look on her face.

‘I reckon ye’ve been frettin’ yeself,’ he continued gently, ‘leein’ awake o’ nights, hev’n’t yee, noo?’

She smiled vaguely.

‘Well, but ye see I’ve coom t’ settle t’ whole business for ye.  Ye thought mabbe that I was na a man o’ my word.’

‘No, no, not that,’ she protested, ‘but—­but—­’

‘But what then?’

’Ye must not do it, Mr. Garstin ...  I must just bear my own trouble the best I can—­’ she broke out.

‘D’ye fancy I’m takin’ ye oot of charity?  Ye little reckon the sort o’ stuff my love for ye’s made of.  Nay, Miss Rosa, but ye canna draw back noo.’

’But ye cannot do it, Mr. Garstin.  Ye know your mother will na have me at Hootsey....  I could na live there with your mother....  I’d sooner bear my trouble alone, as best I can....  She’s that stern is Mrs. Garstin.  I couldn’t look her in the face....  I can go away somewhere....  I could keep it all from uncle.’

Her colour came and went:  she stood before him, looking away from him, dully, out of the window.

‘I intend ye t’ coom t’ Hootsey.  I’m na lad:  I reckon I can choose my own wife.  Mother’ll hev ye at t’ farm, right enough:  ye need na distress yeself on that point—­’

’Nay, Mr. Garstin, but indeed she will not, never...  I know she will not...  She always set herself against me, right from the first.’

‘Ay, but that was different.  T’ case is all changed noo,’ he objected doggedly.

‘She’ll support the sight of me all the less,’ the girl faltered.

‘Mother’ll hev ye at Hootsey—­receive ye willin’ of her own free wish—­of her own free wish, d’ye hear?  I’ll answer for that.’

He struck the table with his fist heavily.  His tone of determination awed her:  she glanced at him hurriedly, struggling with her irresolution.

‘I knaw hoo t’ manage mother.  An’ now,’ he concluded, changing his tone, ‘is yer uncle about t’ place?’

‘He’s up the paddock, I think,’ she answered.

‘Well, I’ll jest step oop and hev a word wi’ him.’

‘Ye’re ... ye will na tell him.’

‘Tut, tut, na harrowin’ tales, ye need na fear, lass.  I reckon ef I can tackle mother, I can accommodate myself t’ parson Blencarn.’

He rose, and coming close to her, scanned her face.

‘Ye must git t’ roses back t’ yer cheeks,’ he exclaimed, with a short laugh, ‘I canna be takin’ a ghost t’ church.’

She smiled tremulously, and he continued, laying one hand affectionately on her shoulder: 

‘Nay, but I was but jestin’.  Roses or na roses, ye’ll be t’ bonniest bride in all Coomberland.  I’ll meet ye in Hullam lane, after church time, tomorrow,’ he added, moving towards the door.