“Why, lile baby? Because I’ve watched ye an’ Gaunt go lover-like along the pastures, afore this daft snow came. Because I want to warn ye that Gaunt comes of a bad breed, an’ never i’ this world could be aught but a will-o’-wispie. Oh, my lass, I’ve seen a few springs come—but I’ve seen the end o’ such-like nonsense, and I know.”
Cilla laughed, and Widow Mathewson, whose outlook on the world was impersonal and cold—save when human weakness broke down the barriers—approved this slim lass in her workaday dress of homespun.
“It was only yesterday that I bade Mr. Gaunt marry where his heart lay,” said the girl quietly. “If I had cared for him—after that fashion—should I have been glad when he told me he was marrying Peggy?”
“You were glad?” asked the widow, with suspicion.
“Why not? He is fond of Peggy, and I think that—that he will settle down, as a farmer should—”
“Ay, so I think, too,” broke in the widow with sudden feeling. “I made the worst o’ that bygone tale, I own, and never told ye that Reuben, on that night when he’d been plaguing me i’ the kitchen, crept round into t’ hall, listening to the stranger-woman’s tale and seeing her driven out into the wind. Well, he waited for his father to go, and then he crept to my side, did th’ lad, an’ we listened to her as she ligged, crying, just outside th’ door. Then he pulled up th’ sneck, an’ he war lifting her in when old Gaunt came, all thunder and lightning down th’ passage. Gaunt locked th’ stranger-woman and the lad out o’ doors; an’ he locked Reuben an’ me i’ th’ big, up-stairs room. ’Twas so we passed the night, Miss Cilla, but I’ve a soft spot i’ my heart for th’ lad ever since, spite of his cantrips.”
They looked across the pool at each other. They were set about by snow, and moaning of the wind, and white hills shrouded under mists that made their summits level with the sky.
“What chance had he?” said Cilla. “With such a father—oh, he did well that night! He did well.”
Widow Mathewson turned. “Seems I misjudged ye, Miss Cilla. I niver can trust a bonnie, lile face like yours these days. Oh, ay, he may do well enough for Peggy. Anyway, she’s set her heart on him.”
When Cilla got down to the croft, and reached the mistal, she found David sitting on an upturned box. He had a lamb on his knees, and he was feeding it with milk from a bottle. Billy was standing near, and his face was wide as a rift in the clouds when the sun breaks through.