Presently they returned to the station and arrived there before Phoebe’s train departed. Her husband then briefly explained the remarkable course of action he designed to pursue.
“You must be a braave gal and think none the worse of me. But’t is this way: I’ve broke law, and a month or two, or six, maybe, in gaol have got to be done. Your faither will see to that.”
“Prison! O, Will! For marryin’ me?”
“No, but for marryin’ you wi’out axin’ leave. Miller Lyddon told me the upshot of taking you, if I done it; an’ I have; an’ he’ll keep his word. So that’s it. I doan’t want to make no more trouble; an’ bein’ a man of resource I’m gwaine up to Exeter by first train, so soon as you’ve started. Then all bother in the matter will be saved Miller.”
“O Will! Must you?”
“Ess fay, ’t is my duty. I’ve thought it out through many hours. The time’ll soon slip off; an’ then I’ll come back an’ stand to work. Here’s a empty carriage. Jump in. I can sit along with ’e for a few minutes.”
“How ever shall I begin? How shall I break it to them, dearie?”
“Hold up your li’l hand,” said Will with a laugh. “Shaw ’em the gawld theer. That’ll speak for ’e. ’S truth!” he continued, with a gesture of supreme irritation, “but it’s a hard thing to be snatched apart like this—man an’ wife. If I was takin’ ’e home to some lew cot, all our very awn, how differ’nt ’t would be!”
“You will some day.”
“So I will then. I’ve got ’e for all time, an’ Jan Grimbal’s missed ’e for all time. Damned if I ban’t a’most sorry for un!”