Her father looked up at the clock.

“Two o’clock,” he said; “I must be going.  I expected George Lechmere over here.  He was coming to talk with me about his father’s twelve-acre meadow.  I want it badly this winter, for I have had more land under the plough than usual this year.  I must either get some pasture or sell off some of my stock.”

“George Lechmere came, father,” Martha said, with an angry toss of her head, “but when he saw me talking to Captain Mallett he turned and went off; just as if I was not to open my lips to any man but himself.”

The farmer would have spoken, but his wife shook her head at him.  George Lechmere had been at one time engaged to Martha, but his jealousy had caused so many quarrels that the engagement had been broken off.  He still came often to the house, however, and her parents hoped that it would be renewed; for the young fellow’s character stood high.  He was his father’s right hand, and would naturally succeed him to the farm.  His parents, too, had heartily approved of the match.  So far, however, the prospect of the young people coming together was not encouraging.  Martha was somewhat given to flirtation.  George was as jealous as ever, and was unable to conceal his feelings, which, as he had now no right to criticise her conduct, so angered the girl that she not unfrequently gave encouragement to others solely to show her indifference to his opinions.

George Lechmere had indeed gone away with anger in his heart.  He knew that Captain Mallett was on the point of leaving with his regiment for India, and yet to see him chatting familiarly with Martha excited in him a passionate feeling of grievance against her.

“It matters nought who it is,” he muttered to himself.  “She is ever ready to carry on with anyone, while she can hardly give me a civil word when I call.  I know that if we were to marry it would be just the same thing, and that I am a fool to stop here and let it vex me.  It would be better for me to get right out of it.  John is old enough to take my place on the farm.  Some of these days I will take the Queen’s shilling.  If I were once away I should not be always thinking of her.  I know I am a fool to let a girl trouble me so, but I can’t help it.  If I stay here I know that I shall do mischief either to her or to someone else.  I felt like doing it last month when she was over at that business at Squire Carthew’s—­he is just such another one as Captain Mallett, only he is a bad landlord, while ours is a good one.  What made him think of asking all his own tenantry, and a good many of us round, and getting up a cricket match and a dance on the grass is more than I can say.  He never did such a thing before in all the ten years since he became master there.  They all noticed how he carried on with Martha, and how she seemed to like it.  It was the talk of everyone there.  If I had not gone away I should have made a fool of myself, though I have no right to interfere with her, and her father and mother were there and seemed in no way put out.