“I saw her watchin’ ye i’ the chapel,” she went on, “an’ I heard o’ her walkin’ about Talgwynne fair wi’ Saunders! Where was ye, Heber, that day?”
“I wasn’t no more’n an hour i’ the town,” said he, “an’ I’d business to do afore I could get to father’s——”
“And Catherine was gone, sure enough, by then,” broke in the other; “an’ if ye tell me that baggage didn’t get rid o’ her I won’t believe ye, that’s all! Her may be wi’ Saunders an’ her mayn’t.”
If these new lights were dazzling the shepherd, they showed him his vague suspicions in more definite shape. He stood staring at Mrs. Job as if he could see into her brain. Mentally she travelled faster than he did, but he was following.
“The sooner I get after Susannah the better,” he said, as he turned away.
“D’ye think she’ll tell ye the truth? Go home, ye foondy feller, an’ don’t be wastin’ shoe-leather!” she exclaimed loudly.
He said nothing but the obstinate determination on his face spoke volumes.
After he passed the window a horrible fear shook her.
“You take up wi’ that baggage at Talgwynne, an’ I’ve done wi’ you!” she cried after him.
Black Heber never swore; it was against his particular assortment of principles. But his lips moved as he passed out of earshot. He was on the nearest way to Talgwynne, and he knew that he must overtake his cousin if she were on foot; he knew also, from Mrs. Job’s story of the broken cup, that she had not started homewards at once. It was not likely that she would tell him the truth, but he had a mad hope of wresting it from her; how, he did not know. At any rate, he might gather something from her bearing. He would be very cautious.