"Live honest;" he begged. "Don't ye go to the dirty trade."
"I wun't," she cried. "I'll live clean if they'll let me. No one knows me there, and I'll get some job mebbe."
"I ha' been young, and now I be getting old," said Brightly. "I ha' been righteous tu, and I ha' begged, and I ha' prayed, and got nought."
"What be yew going to du?" she asked.
"I be coming wi' yew as far as Okehampton. I'll set ye on the road to Plymouth."
"Wun't ye come tu?"
"'Twould kill me," said Brightly. "I be that blind I'd get run over, and my asthma be got so cruel bad I wouldn't be able to breathe. I reckon I'll stop on Dartmoor."
"You'll live honest?" she said.
"I wun't tak' what bain't mine no more," Brightly promised.
In the morning they set out. It was raining, but they did not notice that. They crossed the Taw river, passed through Belstone, and struck into the lane which would bring them down to the Okehampton road. They had not gone far before they came upon a pony and cart fastened to a gate, belonging to the washerwoman, but the cart was empty and there was no one in sight. It carried a lamp, and a board was at the side revealing the owner's name, and the bottom was covered with fern. Brightly brought his pinched face near the cart, stopped to regard this revelation of his life-long dream, and then he succumbed to the great temptation. He unfastened the pony, climbed into the cart, and drove in majesty up the lane.