"No, thank you, I know my way," answered Mrs. Belswin, coolly; "many thanks for your courtesy--good-day."
When she had vanished, Samson Belk stood for some minutes in a brown study, then, recovering himself with a huge sigh, ordered his mother to bring him a mug of beer.
"Eh, she's a fine madam that," he said, as he drank the ale; "got a spice of the devil in her too. I wish I could marry her."
"That wouldn't do much good," said his mother contemptuously, "she's only a companion. Now if you married Miss Pethram, you'd have all this place, and be master here."
"Not much chance of that," growled Belk, putting on his hat; "she's in love with that friend of parson's."
"A whipper-snapper."
"Aye, that he is. I could smash him with one hand; not any great shakes with money either, as I've heard tell. What'll Sir Rupert say to his courting?"
"Well, I heard at the great house this morning, that Sir Rupert was on his way home."
Belk scowled and shook his broad shoulders in an uneasy manner. He did not like Sir Rupert, who was a severe master, and therefore was not at all pleased to hear that his term of liberty would soon be over.
"I hope accounts are all right, Samson," said his mother anxiously. "Let Sir Rupert see you've been a good servant, lad."