'I've forgiven her.' answered Langford in a surly tone. 'I mayn't be over generous, but I'm just.'
'And now, Taverner, one word wi' you,' said old Nanspian. 'I reckon you thought to sloke away this Red Spider, as you did the first; but there you are mistaken. As I've heard, you have tried to force her to accept you—who are old enough to be her father—shame be to you! But this is your own house, and I'll say no more on what I think. Now, Taverner, I venture to declare you have no more hold on the girl. Her brother never took your money; you were robbed by your own housekeeper. You say you've forgiven her because you are just. What the justice is, in that, I don't see, but I do see one thing clear as daylight, and that is, you've no right any more to insist on Honor coming here as your wife, not unless by her free will and consent, and that, I reckon, you won't have, as Larry, my boy, has secured her heart.'
Langford looked at Nanspian, then at Honor and Larry; at the latter he looked long.
'I suppose it is so,' he said. 'Give me the settlement.' He tore it to pieces. 'I'll have nothing more to do with women, old or young. They're all vexatious.'
'Hark!' They heard a wailing cry.
'Go and see what is the matter,' said Langford to Piper; then, turning to Oliver, he said, 'I tear up the settlement, but I'll not lend the hundred pounds.'
'Larry!' said old Nanspian, 'she shan't be sloked away any more. Take the maid's hand, and may the Lord bless and unite you.' Then to Langford, 'Now look y' here, Taverner. Us have been quarrelling long enough, I reckon. You've tried your worst against us, and you've failed. I've made the first advance on my side, and uninvited come over your doorstep, a thing I swore I never would do. Give me your hand, brother-in-law, and let us forget the past, or rather let us go back to a past before we squabbled over a little Red Spider. You can't help it now; Langford and Chimsworthy will be united, but not whilst we old folk are alive, and Honor will be a queen o' managers. She'll rake the maidens out of their beds at five o'clock in the morning to make the butter, and——'
Piper burst into the room. 'Mrs. Veale!' he exclaimed.
'Well, what of Mrs. Veale?' asked Langford sharply.
'She has run out, crying like an owl and flapping her arms, over the moor, till she came to Wellon's Hill.'