One day Squire Faggus had dropped in upon us, just in time for dinner; and very soon he and King’s messenger were as thick as need be.  Tom had brought his beloved mare to show her off to Annie, and he mounted his pretty sweetheart upon her, after giving Winnie notice to be on her very best behaviour.  The squire was in great spirits, having just accomplished a purchase of land which was worth ten times what he gave for it; and this he did by a merry trick upon old Sir Roger Bassett, who never supposed him to be in earnest, as not possessing the money.  The whole thing was done on a bumper of claret in a tavern where they met; and the old knight having once pledged his word, no lawyers could hold him back from it.  They could only say that Master Faggus, being attainted of felony, was not a capable grantee.  “I will soon cure that,” quoth Tom, “my pardon has been ready for months and months, so soon as I care to sue it.”

And now he was telling our Annie, who listened very rosily, and believed every word he said, that, having been ruined in early innocence by the means of lawyers, it was only just, and fair turn for turn, that having become a match for them by long practice upon the highway, he should reinstate himself, at their expense, in society.  And now he would go to London at once, and sue out his pardon, and then would his lovely darling Annie, etc., etc.—­things which I had no right to hear, and in which I was not wanted.

Therefore I strode away up the lane to my afternoon’s employment, sadly comparing my love with theirs (which now appeared so prosperous), yet heartily glad for Annie’s sake; only remembering now and then the old proverb “Wrong never comes right.”

I worked very hard in the copse of young ash, with my billhook and a shearing-knife; cutting out the saplings where they stooled too close together, making spars to keep for thatching, wall-crooks to drive into the cob, stiles for close sheep hurdles, and handles for rakes, and hoes, and two-bills, of the larger and straighter stuff.  And all the lesser I bound in faggots, to come home on the sledd to the woodrick.  It is not to be supposed that I did all this work, without many peeps at the seven rooks’ nests, which proved my Lorna’s safety.  Indeed, whenever I wanted a change, either from cleaving, or hewing too hard, or stooping too much at binding, I was up and away to the ridge of the hill, instead of standing and doing nothing.

Soon I forgot about Tom and Annie; and fell to thinking of Lorna only; and how much I would make of her; and what I should call our children; and how I would educate them, to do honour to her rank; yet all the time I worked none the worse, by reason of meditation.  Fresh-cut spars are not so good as those of a little seasoning; especially if the sap was not gone down at the time of cutting.  Therefore we always find it needful to have plenty still in stock.