Doubledick followed the riding-officer into the room where he had been reading. He carefully shut the door behind him, offered Mr. Polwhele a pinch of snuff, and took one himself, then sat down rather stiffly.
Half an hour later he emerged from the house, remounted his horse, and rode away, not northward in the direction of his home, but eastward along a bridle path across the moor. In a quarter of an hour, however, he turned to the left, skirted the village, passing about midway between it and the church, and continued for some time in the same direction. Then once more he struck to the left and came by-and-by to the high-road, at a point between the Towers and the Dower House. He turned into the drive leading to the latter, but instead of reining up at the front entrance, he passed round the house to the back, and having again awkwardly dismounted, he rapped on the kitchen door.
"Oh, 'tis you, Maister Doubledick," said Susan, when she opened to him. "Folks said you'd gone away."
"So I had, my dear; but I be back-along, as you can see wi' yer pretty eyes. Now tell me, be the Maister to home?"
"Yes, he be in his room, rayther poorly."
"And be he alone?"
"Yes, but 'tis not for long, folks say. We'll have a mistress afore long, and i hope she be likeable, that I do."
"Well, now, that's new news, to be sure. And who be the woman?"
"She bean't 'zackly a woman. 'Tis Sir Bevil's darter, seemingly, and she be a maid younger nor I, they say."
"So she be, to be sure. Dear life! And I never heerd o't. Here's a shillin' for your news, to buy 'ee a fairin'."