William was proud, and the consciousness of his own love for her made him less able to persist, for he knew she might be so ungenerous as to retort if he angered her too far. So he altered the direction of his battery. He planted himself at the gate of Grassmere Farm, and as Meadows got off his horse requested a few words with him. Meadows ran him over with one lightning glance, and then the whole man was on the defensive. William bluntly opened the affair.
“You heard me promise to look on Susan as my sister, and keep her as she is for my brother that is far away.”
“I heard you, Mr. William,” said Meadows with a smile that provoked William as the artful one intended it should.
“You come here too often, sir.”
“Too often for who?”
“Too often for me, too often for George, too often for the girl herself. I won't have George's sweetheart talked about.”
“You are the first to talk about her; if there's scandal it is of your making.”
“I won't have it—at a word.”
Meadows called out, “Miss Merton, will you step here.”
William was astonished at his audacity; he did not know his man.