Red Ratcliffe lost his brief touch of superstition. "Ay—and that without going nearer than half a league to Marsh. As I was on my way there I chanced on Hiram Hey, and the wry old fool told me all I asked with never a guess at my meaning."
"There's enough, is there?"
"And to spare. I've seen to the hemlock, too, and one of the lads is to go——"
"Hold thy peace!" cried Nicholas, chiding him roughly. "Here's Janet, and she must guess naught of this; 'twould only fright her."
Red Ratcliffe moved away as his cousin came up, for he had no wish to make further sport for her yet awhile. "Fright her, poor lambling, would it?" he muttered. "The Lean Man's care for her is wondrous—but what if he knew that I had learned more to-day than ever he sent me out in search of?"
"Come here, Janet," said Nicholas, as the girl halted, doubtful whether he wanted speech of her. "There has been somewhat on my tongue this long while past, and every time I see thee come in from these fond walks of thine, I read two things more clearly."
"And what are they, grandfather?" she said, slipping a coaxing hand into his.
"That the wind gives thee beauty enough to tempt any man—and that there's danger in it so long as we're at feud with the Waynes."
"But that is an old tale, sir," she pouted, "and—and no harm has come to me as yet."
"The more cause to fear it then, to-morrow, or the next day after. See, lass, I would not deal hardly with thee, but I'll not give way on this one point, plead as thou wilt. There are Ratcliffes in plenty who want thee in wedlock, and 'tis time thou hadst a strong arm about thee. Thou'lt wander less abroad, I warrant, soon as thou hast a goodman."