"She's an angel from heaven, sir. Not a three days go over without her walking up here all this way after her work, to comfort my poor maid—and all of us as well. It's like the dew of heaven upon us. Pity, sir, you didn't see her home."
"I should have liked it well enough; but folks might talk, if two young people were seen walking together Sunday evening."
"Oh, sir, they know her too well by now, for miles round: and you too, sir, I'll make bold to say."
"Well, at least I'll go after her."
So Tom went, and kept Grace in sight, till she had crossed the little moor, and disappeared in the wood below.
He had gone about a hundred yards into the wood, when he heard voices and laughter—then a loud shriek. He hurried forward. In another minute, Grace rushed up to him, her eyes wide with terror and indignation.
"What is it?" cried he, trying to stop her: but, not seeming to see him, she dashed past him, and ran on. Another moment, and a man appeared in full pursuit.
It was Trebooze of Trebooze, an evil laugh upon his face.
Tom planted himself across the narrow path in an attitude which there was no mistaking.
Not a word passed between them. Silently and instinctively, like two fierce dogs, the two men flew upon each other; Tom full of righteous wrath, and Trebooze of half-drunken passion, turned to fury by the interruption.