"And I don't ask you to do more," Sam replied, with a laugh. "I must do the rest myself."
William did not sleep very much that night. For some reason, the thought of Ruth Penlogan getting married had scarcely crossed his mind. There seemed to him nobody in St. Goram or St. Ivel that was worthy of her. Hence the appearance of Sam Tremail on the scene intent on marrying her was like the falling of an avalanche burying his hope and his desire.
"I suppose it was bound to come some time," he sighed to himself; "and I'd rather she married Sam than some folks I know. But—but it's very hard all the same."
A week later Sam rode over to St. Goram again. But Ralph was in London, and William refused to take him to the Penlogans' cottage during Ralph's absence.
On the day of Ralph's return, Sam came a third time.
"Yes, I'll take you this evening," William said. "I want to see Ralph myself. I've great faith in Ralph's judgment." And William sighed.
"Is something troubling you?" Sam asked, with a sudden touch of apprehension.
"I am a bit worried," William answered slowly, "and troubles never come singly."
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"No, I don't think so," William answered. "But get on your hat; it's a goodish walk."