“I’ll see you home,” I said. “Tarry a while, Miriam, I’ve such a lot to say.”
“I daren’t. I must go, and go alone. You must not be seen with me. Granddam would bar me in, and Ephraim—oh! I daren’t think what Ephraim would do. He’s brave and means to be kind. But you cannot tell what he’s like when his blood’s up and the drink’s in him.”
“I’m not feared,” I said stoutly.
“No, but I am. Burnplatters don’t stick at trifles, and a knife in the back on a dark night’s little to them. Never come nigh Burnplatts again.”
“But, Miriam, see you I must. See, I’ll bring Ruth, my sister Ruth. You’d love Ruth.”
“Aye, but would Ruth love me?”
“I’ll go bail,” I answered with great confidence.
“I should dearly like it. But how to manage it. When will you be on Pole Moor again? To-morrow night I’ll be here an hour after sunset. And now go, go. Good-night and go.”
I pressed her hand and she sped away on feet that seemed scarce to touch the heather.
CHAPTER IV.