“Oh, of course I know you have had plenty of fools dangling about you and saying a lot of things they don’t mean—”
“So that one more or less hardly counts,” suggested Olivia, laughing.
He would not be angry even then. He thought if he affected to drop the subject he should soon bring her to reason; so he said, “Oh, well, of course, if that’s your way of looking at it, there’s no more to be said.”
But she took him at his word, and, with just a nod of assent to his last remark, ran to the hedge, with a cry, “There’s Mat!” as she caught sight of Farmer Oldshaw’s son standing under the trees.
Fred Williams looked after her with an ugly expression on his little yellow face.
“Fancy my not being common enough for her, by Jove!” was his modest reflection as he saw her shake hands heartily with the young man.
Olivia with a woman’s quick perception, had known at once that Mat had something of importance to tell her.
“What is it, Mat?” she asked, anxiously, as they shook hands.
“Mester Vernon: he’s very bad wi’ t’ fever,” said he, in a low voice. “Ah allers weaite at corner o’ t’ long meadow o’ Thursdays, an’ walk wi’ him as far as Lower Copse, where he goes to ’s meeting. An’ to-deay he didn’t coom, so Ah knew summat wur wrong, an’ Ah went to ’s home, an’ Ah saw him. An’ Ah thowt Ah’d let ye knaw, Miss Olivia, so Ah coom here to tell ye.”
Olivia had very little shyness with Mat; he knew her secret, and he too loved Vernon Brander most loyally. She thanked him in very few words, but with a look of gratitude in her eyes which stirred in the young man feelings of pain and pleasure she never guessed at.