A dream that had often filled the girl’s waking thoughts suddenly promised to come true and for a moment she was frightened. But only for a moment. She hardly hesitated. Here was romance, fame, the centre of the stage—everything. She knew very well that she could trust him, and if ever she loved and adored the impassive vatman it was at this moment.
She took his hand and pressed her lips to it.
“Like it!” she cried. “It would be heaven on earth—heaven on earth. And God’s my judge you shan’t repent it. I’ll live for you and die for you.”
“So be it, Medora. It’s done.”
He put his arms round her and kissed her. Then both felt a secret desire to be alone and consider the magnitude of the decision. He voiced this wish.
“We’ll part now,” he said. “You go down to your mother and I’ll go home. Be quite easy in your mind and cheerful and content. Leave the rest to me. I’ll write to you to-night after I’ve gone all through it. It ain’t so difficult as it sounds if we back each other up properly. I’ll see you get the letter to-morrow out of sight of everybody at the works. Be round by the vat house half after eleven. You’ve got a man to deal with—remember that.”
“God bless you,” she answered very earnestly. “I’m yours now, and never, never shall you repent of it, Jordan. You can trust me same as I trust you in everything.”
They descended the winding stair of the ruin and then parted. Medora went down through the orchard to her mother’s home at Priory Farm, while Kellock, climbing through the hedge, presently set his face to Dene and strolled down the Corkscrew Lane with his mind full of the future. He found that thought persisted in drifting away from Medora to her husband. He had just told her that she had a man to deal with; and now it was impressed on Kellock that he, also, had to deal with a man.
Meantime Ned’s wife reached the farm, and before she did so, she bathed her eyes at a little stream under the orchard hedge.
She appeared in an unusually contented frame of mind and Lydia was glad to see her so. Another guest had arrived, for Philander Knox, at Mrs. Trivett’s invitation, visited Priory Farm. A friendship had sprung up between him and the widow, for modest though Lydia might be, she could not fail to perceive her company was agreeable to Mr. Knox. He would listen to her opinions in a flattering manner and often expressed surprise to mark how her sense chimed with his experience. His own philosophy and general outlook on life were approved by Mrs. Trivett and on this occasion she had invited him to drink tea at Priory Farm and meet her brother and his family.