Ralph had a difficulty in keeping the tears back. The pleasant room, hung with pictures, the cheerful fire crackling in the grate, the white tablecloth and dainty china and polished knives and forks, the hot, fragrant tea and the delicious ham, were such a contrast from what he had endured so long, that he felt for a moment or two as if his emotion would completely overcome him.
William wisely did not look at him, but gave all his attention to the victuals, and in a few minutes had the satisfaction of seeing his guest doing full justice to the fare.
During the journey home they talked mainly about what had happened in St. Goram since Ralph went away, but William could not bring himself to tell him the truth about his mother. Again and again he got to the point, and then his courage failed him.
At St. Ivel Road, William's trap was waiting for them, and they drove the two miles to St. Goram in silence.
Suddenly Ralph reached out his hand as if to grasp the reins.
"You are driving past our house," he said, in a tone of suppressed excitement.
"Yes, that's all right," William answered, in a tone of apparent unconcern. "They're not there now."
"Not there?" he questioned, with a gasp.
"No. You'll come along with me for a bit."
"But I do not understand," Ralph said, turning eager eyes on William's face.