“Keep it the day after to-morrow—you remember our customs, sometimes more honored, you know, in the breach than the observance—you can hold to your resolve that day; you must hold to it, for everything hangs on it. It is a terrible hazard.”
Robbie put his hand in Ralph's, and the two stalwart dalesmen looked steadily each into the other's face. There was a dauntless spirit of resolution in the eyes of the younger man. His resolve was irrevocable. His crime had saved him.
“That's enough,” said Ralph. He was satisfied.
“Why, you sleep—you sleep,” cried the little schoolmaster. During the preceding conversation he had been capering to and fro in the road, leaping on to the hedge, leaping back again, and putting his hands to the sides of his eyes to shut away the wind that came from behind him, while he looked out for the expected enemy.
“You sleep—you sleep—that Garth—that devil's garth—that worse than kirk-garth—that—that—!”
“And now we part,” said Ralph, “for the present. Good by, both!” And he turned to go back the way he came.
Monsey and Robbie had gone a few paces in the other direction, when the little schoolmaster stopped, and, turning round, cried in a loud voice, “O yes, I know it—the Lion. I've been there before. I'll whisper Father Matthew that you've gone—”
Robbie had put his arm on Monsey's shoulder and swung him round, and Ralph heard no more.