Saunders turned round at once. She was as completely unknown to him as he had been to her a few hours ago; but, thanks to a couple of visits to the Hand of Friendship, his downhearted uneasiness had given way to a more venturesome outlook on the world. Though Susannah wore a plain black jacket and an unsuggestive hat, both of which had seen better days, there was in her appearance that demand for attention from the other sex which certain women carry with them wherever they go and however they are clothed. Her direct eyes challenged those of Charles, which now had a roving expression absent from them in the morning.
“Well, my dear,” said he easily.
“What’ll you give me for a bit o’ news?” asked Susannah, answering his look in kind. Her hand was still on his arm and she gave it a little shake.
Saunders smiled. He did not quite know what to say in reply, nor what turn he wished the situation to take; it seemed to have several possibilities.
“It’s good news, too,” continued she, “and maybe I’ll give it you for nothin’. You’ve been used very bad, Mr. Saunders.”
Charles’s countenance changed. The certainty that he was a marked man had dogged him all day. He had come to Talgwynne very unwillingly, because his uncle, who wanted a horse, and whom he could not afford to disoblige, had sent him to the fair to look for something suitable. He had read in every face how completely his misfortunes were public property, though the Hand of Friendship had helped to put his humiliation from him for a little while. Every one he met knew how he had arrived at Pencoed on his wedding morning to find himself there on a fool’s errand. No living creature had seen Catherine go; and all that he or any one had been able to drag from Mrs. Job was the admission that she had heard a horse pass her cottage long after she was snug in bed. She had risen and stared into the darkness, but, seeing nothing, had returned to her rest. As for the girl, she had bidden her good-night, leaving her safe in the barn, hours before.
Charles had cursed and stormed. Heber came to his mind even before he heard his detested name upon the lips of the best man, who spoke his suggestion boldly. But there was no clue, no trace; nothing but the marks of horse’s feet printed about Mrs. Job’s barn-door and crossing the yard, only to lose themselves on the hard turf of the mountain. While to every one possessed of the rudiments of good sense, these were proofs of the shepherd’s complicity, Heber was quietly at his business at the farm. The best man, whose curiosity, draped in the cloak of friendship for Saunders, urged him to the place, brought back this news. But there was no sign of Catherine.
The sting of wounded pride was so sharp on Charles that the idea of a search for the lost woman was far from him, and he was loud in his resolve not to stir an inch in pursuit. Had he been able to injure Heber he would have done so willingly, but Catherine should go free. She had proved herself no fit wife for a man of his sort, and it was not for him to take her back at a gift—not now. His tongue moved with unclean freedom as he made known his opinion.
“Yes, you’ve been used shameful, but you’ll have the laugh o’ them yet, and I’ll help you to get it, if you’ll listen to me,” continued Susannah. “I can tell you that much. Come you out of the crowd a bit. We can’t speak private enough here.”
Charles looked round suspiciously, first on the elbowing mass and then on the unknown woman at his side; not far off he saw one of the farmers with whom he had been in company that morning. Certainly it would not do to discuss his affairs in such publicity. Had his head been perfectly clear he might not have been minded to discuss them at all, but as it was, the mixture of sympathy and knowingness in Susannah’s voice had its effect. If she had been a man he would have shaken her off, cursing her for her impudence; but he liked women, and there was something about this one that impressed him and took his fancy too. As he hesitated his name was shouted across the way.