"Sometimes in my uplifted moments I've wondered whether truth's made known to my wife now, and whether, looking down 'pon Dartymoor, she knows that I was right touching Amicombe Hill, and she was wrong," mused Gregory.
"Perhaps she knows she was right and you are wrong, my old dear," suggested Sarah Jane.
But her father shook his head.
"I ban't feared of that," he answered.
After a cup of tea, Daniel Brendon made a faltering proposal, and met with a startling reply.
"I wonder now, if you and Miss here would take a walk along o' me next Sunday?" he asked. "I'll meet 'e where you please. And I'm sure I should be terrible proud if you could lend me your company."
"I can't—not next Sunday," declared the girl. "'Tis like this: I'm going to Lydford to spend the day along with the Weekes family. And Jarratt Weekes be going to ax me to marry him."
Dan's eyes grew round.
"Good Lord!" he said, with surprise and reverence mingled.
"That's what the man's going to do, if I know him. 'Tis all planned out in his mind. I could most tell the words he'm going to say it in—knowing him so well as I do."