To-day she sat with her back to the beech; and two others shared these precincts with her. One reclined at her feet; the other watched unseen.
Prospects of important employment kept David Bowden much from home at this season. The matter was now as good as accomplished and it appeared certain that, with the new year, he would leave Dartmoor and enter the service of a cattle-breeder at Tavistock. Such a position opened possibilities far better than the man could have expected at his present work. With mingled feelings Margaret contemplated the change; and she met with Crocker on two or three occasions at this period during her husband's prolonged absence. She made no secret of these appointments, yet it came about that one most vitally interested did not always hear of them; because Rhoda had of late lapsed into a very saturnine vein and eschewed converse with her sister-in-law. Madge, therefore, judging that her affairs were of no consequence or interest to Rhoda, kept them to herself. They were at 'Meavy Cot' alone together and, in all kindness, the wife had proposed that Rhoda should take this opportunity of David's absence and herself visit Ditsworthy for a day or two. Mrs. Bowden had expressed a desire to this effect and the opportunity seemed good. But Rhoda curtly refused. Her dogs might be trusty guardians for the hearth and home of 'Meavy Cot'; but they could not guard the mistress of it or protect her from herself.
The elder woman stopped therefore, and, the more suspicious for this invitation to depart, watched in secret.
She was watching now, while Margaret and Bartley, under the beech, sat close together and talked like kind-hearted children about the welfare of another person. He had great information for her and promised to lift a sustained cloud of darkness from her mind.
"What'll you give me for the best piece of news you've heard this year?" he asked; and she replied that she had nothing in the world to give anybody but good-will.
"If I could give you Rhoda, I would," she said; "but nobody can give her to you save herself."
"I've made a great discovery--or so good as made it," he answered. "'Twas out of Tim Mattacott of all people that I got a clue. Him and Maunder are well-meaning, harmless men, and in the bar--at Shillabeer's--three days ago--I heard them talking together. They were at my elbow and I couldn't help listening to a few words. After that I didn't blame myself for listening to a few more. It's all about your brother Bart and Jane West, and your mother."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Why, there's been a plot, and I'm after the ringleader. I may or may not find him, but one thing is clear, and that's all that matters. Somebody--not Mattacott himself but a friend of his--has tried to help him to get Jane West away from Bart."
"It looks as if they had succeeded too," said Margaret; "for Bart tells me the girl won't say 'yes' and won't say 'no.'"