“Seems so,” said George, dryly, and with a glance of defiance; and he read out the letter.

“George Fielding, my fine fellow, think of it again.  I have two berths in the ship that sails from Southampton to-morrow.  You will have every comfort on the voyage—­a great point.  I will do what I said for you” ("he promised me five hundred sheep and a run").  “I must have an honest man, and where can I find as honest a man as George Fielding?” ("Thank you, Mr. Winchester; George Fielding thanks you, sir.”) And there was something noble and simple in the way the young farmer drew himself up, and looked fearlessly in all his companions’ eyes.

“You saved my life—­I can do nothing for you here—­and you are doing no good at ’The Grove’—­everybody says so ("everybody says so!”—­and George Fielding winced at the words).

“And it really pains me, my brave fellow, to go without you where I know I could put you on the way of fortune.  My heart is pretty stout; but home is home; and be assured that I wait with some anxiety to know whether my eyes are to look on nothing but water for the next four months, or are to be cheered by the sight of something from home, the face of a thoroughbred English yeoman, and—­a friend—­and—­and—­”

Poor George could read no more, the kind words, coming after his affronts and troubles, brought his heart to his mouth.

Susan took the letter from him, and read out—­

“And an upright, downright honest man”—­“AND SO YOU ARE, GEORGE!” cried she, warmly, drawing to George’s side, and darting glances of defiance vaguely around.  Then she continued to read—­

“If the answer is favorable, a word is enough.  Meet me at ‘The Crown,’ in Newborough, to-night, and we will go up to Town by the mail train.”

“The answer is, Yes,” said George to the servant, who was at some distance.

Susan, bending over the letter, heard, but could not realize the word, but the servant now came nearer.  George said to him, “Tell your master, Yes.”

“Yes?  George!” cried Susan, “what do you mean by yes?  It is about going to Australia.”

“The answer is yes,” said George.

The servant went away with the answer.

The others remained motionless.

“This nobleman’s son respects me if worse folk don’t.  But it is not the great bloodhounds and greyhounds that bark at misfortune’s heels, it is only the village curs, when all is done.  This is my path.  I’ll pack up my things and go.”  And he did not look at Susan or any of them, but went into the house like a man walking in his sleep.

There was a stupefied pause.

Then Susan gave a cry like a wounded deer.

“Father! what have you done?”

Merton himself had been staggered, but he replied stoutly: 

“No more than my duty, girl, and I hope you will do no less than yours.”

At this moment Robinson threw up the window and jumped out into the yard.