"No. I met her 'pon the way to home. She reckons she've killed you."
"An' be happy to think so, no doubt. I sclummed her faace down—didn't I?"
"Doan't let your rage rise no more. You've had a foot in the graave for sartain. Be you better? Or shall I carry 'e?"
She rose weakly, and he put his arm around her and led her away. They moved along together until, coming suddenly above the ridge of the hill, Mr. Libby appeared within two hundred yards of them. He had made his great detour, and was slipping stealthily homeward, when here surprised.
Sally saw him and screamed; whereupon he stopped, lost his nerve, and, turning, hastened back towards the Moor.
"Theer! the snake! That's him as fuled me an' brawk my heart, an' wouldn't care this instant moment if I was dead!"
"'Tis Greg Libby," said Collins, gazing at the retreating figure with great contempt. "A very poor fashion o' man as I've always held."
But Sally's mind was running forward with speed.
"Did you ever love me?" she asked suddenly, with her eyes on the departing hedge-tacker.
"You knaw well enough—an' allus shall so long as I've got sense."