"And as for Mark, he's all right and up for anything. He chatted free and friendly about the play and the dresses we're going to wear. He's to be prompter on the night and 'tis settled that the schoolmaster from Bickleigh be going to be Doctor, because there's none in this parish will do it. And Mark says that after the play's over, he shall very like do the same as Rupert and leave home."
"He said that?"
"Yes; and I said, 'None can ring tenor bell like you, I'm sure.' Then he looked at me as if he could have said a lot, but he didn't."
"I hope he will go and see a bit of the world. 'Twill help him to forget you," said her mother.
"Ned's the only one of 'em knows the world," answered Cora. "He's travelled about a bit and 'tis natural that his father should put him before all the others and see his sense and learning. When parson's voice gave out, Ned read the lessons—that Sunday you was from home—and nobody ever did it better. He's a very clever man, in fact, and his father knows it, and when his father dies, the will is going to show what his father thinks of him."
"He's told you so, I suppose?"
"Ned has, yes. He knows I'm one of the business-like sort. I'd leap the hatch to-morrow if a proper rich man came along and asked me to."
"Remember you're not the first—that's all," said her mother. "If you take him and he changes his mind and serves you like he's served another here and there, you'll have a very unquiet time of it, and look a very big fool."
"'Twas all nonsense and lies," she answered. "He made the truth clear to me. He never took either of them girls. They wasn't nice maidens and they rushed him into it—or thought they had. He's never loved any woman until——"
Cora broke off.