Ralph noticed that his father trembled a good deal, and that he was pale even to the lips.
The squire came hurrying across the fields at length, slapping his leg as he walked with his riding-crop. His face was hard and set, like a man who had braced himself to do an unpleasant task, and was determined to carry it through. Ralph watched his face narrowly as he drew near, but he got no hope or inspiration from it. The squire did not notice him, but addressed himself at once to David.
"Good-morning, Penlogan!" he said. "I see you have got down all your corn."
"Yes, sir, we cut neck on Saturday night."
"And not a bad crop either, by the look of it."
"No, sir, it's pretty middling. The farm is just beginning to show some fruit for all the labour and money that have been spent on it."
"Exactly so. Labour and manure always tell in the end. You know, of course, that the lease has fallen in?"
"I do, sir. It's hard on the parson at St. Goram, and it's harder lines on me."
"Yes, it's rough on you both, I admit. But we can't be against these things. When the Almighty does a thing, no man can say nay."
"I'm not so sure that the Almighty does a lot of those things that people say He does."