And, meanwhile, he would farm as he had never farmed before, watching his opportunities, driving cunning bargains, spending nothing on himself, hoarding every penny that she might have what she wanted....  And, as he strode through the village, he seemed to foresee a general brightening of prospects, a sobering of the fever of speculation in sheep, a cessation of the insensate glutting, year after year, of the great winter marts throughout the North, a slackening of the foreign competition followed by a steady revival of the price of fatted stocks—­a period of prosperity in store for the farmer at last....  And the future years appeared to open out before him, spread like a distant, glittering plain, across which, he and she, hand in hand, were called to travel together....

And then, suddenly, as his iron-bound boots clattered over the cobbled yard, he remembered, with brutal determination, his mother, and the stormy struggle that awaited him.

He waited till supper was over, till his mother had moved from the table to her place by the chimney corner.  For several minutes he remained debating with himself the best method of breaking the news to her.  Of a sudden he glanced up at her:  her knitting had slipped on to her lap:  she was sitting, bunched of a heap in her chair, nodding with sleep.  By the flickering light of the wood fire, she looked worn and broken:  he felt a twinge of clumsy compunction.  And then he remembered the piteous, hunted look in the girl’s eyes, and the old man’s words when they had parted at the paddock gate, and he blurted out: 

‘I doot but what I’ll hev t’ marry Rosa Blencarn after all.’

She started, and blinking her eyes, said: 

‘I was jest takin’ a wink o’ sleep.  What was ‘t ye were saying, Tony?’

He hesitated a moment, puckering his forehead into coarse rugged lines, and fidgeting noisily with his tea-cup.  Presently he repeated: 

‘I doot but what I’ll hev t’ marry Rosa Blencarn after all.’

She rose stiffly, and stepping down from the hearth, came towards him.

‘Mabbe I did na hear ye aright, Tony.’  She spoke hurriedly, and though she was quite close to him, steadying herself with one hand clutching the back of his chair, her voice sounded weak, distant almost.

‘Look oop at me.  Look oop into my face,’ she commanded fiercely.

He obeyed sullenly.

’Noo oot wi ‘t.  What’s yer meanin’, Tony?’

‘I mean what I say,’ he retorted doggedly, averting his gaze.

‘What d’ye mean by sayin’ that ye’ve got t’ marry her?’

‘I tell yer I mean what I say,’ he repeated dully.

‘Ye mean ye’ve bin an’ put t’ girl in trouble?’

He said nothing; but sat staring stupidly at the floor.

‘Look oop at me, and answer,’ she commanded, gripping his shoulder and shaking him.

He raised his face slowly, and met her glance.