He never doubted that Heber had forestalled him again. It wanted but this to put the crown on his injuries, the fool’s cap on his pride! With some vague, whirling idea of seeking the man who had played him the same trick twice, he made through the unfamiliar outskirts for the centre of the town, his head down, looking neither to right nor left; and, because he did not know his way, he took the exact course by which Susannah had brought him. Had he gone straight towards the market-place he would have met Heber hurrying to his father’s door. Unexpectedly, and at a moment’s notice, the shepherd had been sent to the fair by his employer, and his native thoroughness had forbidden him to seek Catherine before his business was despatched. He had been asked as a favour to trot out the horse just as he was starting for the cottage; and now, having delivered the beast again to the boy in charge, he was making up for the delay with a zest that his meeting with Saunders had done nothing to lessen. Charles had scarcely been gone five minutes when Heber’s hand was on the latch.
Susannah had persuaded her uncle to go upstairs and rest upon his bed; she had not told him that Heber was in the town, and she had her own reasons for hoping that father and son would not meet.
Heber entered and looked round.
“Where is she?” he asked blankly.
“Gone,” said Susannah.
“Gone?” cried he.
The woman could scarcely hide the smile that touched her mouth.
“Charles Saunders was here,” she said. “They’re gone.”
For one moment the shepherd stood dumb. Then he also turned and rushed out of the house.