‘I shall write to you every week, and send the letters under cover to her,’ said Dick. ‘And you may be sure that I shall find—or make—plenty of opportunities to run down here from time to time. There is a coach every day to Birmingham.’
They had been walking slowly all this time. It was night now, the last gleam of sunset had faded, the stars were lustrous overhead, and a yellow moonlight flooded the surrounding country. A long distance off, faint but clear in the dead hush of the summer night, they heard, but did not mark, the beat of horses’ hoofs approaching them.
‘I must go, Dick,’ said Julia. ‘It is late, and they will wonder where I am No, let me go now, while I have the strength.’
He took her in his arms again, and her head dropped on his shoulder, and the tears began to run afresh. He held her close, but in that last moment of parting could find no word of comfort, only dumb caresses. The hoof-beats were near at hand now, just beyond the bend of the road. They rounded the corner, and broke on the lovers’ ears with a loud and startling suddenness. The girl broke away, and ran through the gate into the field with a stifled sob. Dick turned, and walked down the road in the direction of the approaching horseman. The moon was at the full, and shone broadly upon his face and figure.
‘Hullo!’ cried the rider, in gruff challenge, and pulling his horse into Dick’s path, reined in. The young man looked up and recognised Samson Mountain. Flight would have been as useless as ignominious, and it had never been Dick’s way out of any difficulty.
‘Well?’ he asked curtly, and stood his ground.
‘Is that my daughter?’ demanded Mountain, pointing with his heavy whip after the white figure glinting across the field. ‘Spake the truth for once, though you be a Reddy.’
‘It’s a habit we have,’ said Dick quietly. His calm almost surprised himself. ‘Yes.’
Mountain had always been of a heavy build, and of late years had increased enormously in girth and weight. But his wrath at this confirmation of his half guess stirred him so, that before the sound of the word had well died out on the air he had dismounted, and came at the young man with his riding-whip flourished above his head.
‘Don’t do that, sir.’ Dick spoke in a low voice, though quickly; and there was something in his tone which brought the weapon harmlessly to the farmer’s side again. ‘It is your daughter. We love each other, and she has promised to be my wife.’