"Monday month then, master?"
"If quite convenient to yourself."
Then Palk went out into storm and gathering dusk. The woods of Buckland waved grey through the gloaming and rain swept them heavily. The wind shouted over the granite crown of the Beacon; sheep and cattle had crept down from the high land and stood in the shelter of walls and woods.
Thomas considered with himself. He was in a state as perturbed as it was possible for such a stolid spirit to be; but he remembered that the innocent cause of this revolution was now returning heavy laden up the long hill from the market town.
He decided that he would go and meet Susan. His upheaval took the form of increased solicitude for Miss Stockman.
"She shall hear the fatal news from me—not him," he reflected.
He set off and presently sighted the woman tramping up the hill in the rain. Under the wild weather and fading light, she looked like some large, bedraggled moth blown roughly about. Her basket was full and her left arm held a parcel in blue paper. It was the only spot of colour she offered. They met, greatly to her surprise.
"Good Lord!" she said. "Have father put more chores on you? Be you going to Ashburton?"
"I am not," he answered. "I came out with my big umbrella to meet you."
She was fluttered.