The week went away but slowly.  On the Wednesday evening the old Squire said:  “You’ll go over to Branspath to-morrow morning early.  Richards will drive you in, and you must call on Chernside and tell him I wish to see him in the afternoon about Gibson’s lease.  He’ll know what you mean.”  The young man shifted uneasily.  “Couldn’t you send a note by Richards?” He felt his face hot as he asked the question.

“Well, yes, I could, if I chose, but I want Richards to order a few things in the High Street.  He’ll pick you up when you’ve done with Chernside.”  At two o’clock next day young Mr. Ellington was back again at the Hall.  As he stepped down from the dog-cart, Richards pointed to the horse.  “I doubt we’ve done him some harm, Sir.  Forty-five minutes from the High Moor—­the black mare couldn’t do it no quicker.  Matchem here hasn’t been driven for three weeks now.”  The horse was drooping his head, the lather slid down his flanks,—­so I fancy there had been hard going.

The young Squire gave an indifferent look and hurried indoors.  Within an hour he was walking rather quickly toward the sea, without one sign of the dreaminess that overweighed him when last he took the same road.  Presently (he knew it would come) a firm step came over the gravel, and his heart went fast.  Before he had got rid of his momentary dimness of sight, he found himself obliged to stammer out something:  “You managed the wicket by yourself this time.”  The girl laughed brightly.  Ellington felt bound to go on speaking—­

“You are going over to the Dene?”

“Yes; I think I’ll take the short cut through the Ride.”

“I think, if you don’t mind, we may as well go by the Three Plantations.”  He said “we” with the utmost ease, and, noticing no sign of dissent, he walked on by the side of the girl, and a new chapter of his life began.

Neither of them could tell exactly how they came to be walking together, yet each of them would have been disappointed had it not fallen out so.  Neither of them had made a definite resolve to meet the other, but the girl had made most calculations on the event.  Within a month from that day the pair were strolling under the gloom of the firs in the Three Plantations.  This time young Mr. Ellington had his arm round his companion’s waist; her tall figure was leaned towards him.

They were talking low, and the rustling sound of their whispers echoed a little beneath the sombre arch of the trees.

They came to the little bridge which crossed the head of the Dean, and then he took both her hands and said, “Now, good-bye; to-morrow at the high end of the New Plantation.”  They had got to daily meetings within that short month.

“I’ll be there.  You won’t mind if I’m a bit behind time?  Sometimes they want me, and I don’t care for my father to ask where I’m going.”

“I’ve promised to wait for you, darling, half a lifetime, if need be.  Why should I grudge an hour?”