“Yes, you be hussy enough for anything, I’ll be bound!” cried the old man’s shrill voice. “Let me go on, I tell ’e; open the gate! Who cares a damn who ye be livin’ with?”
“He told me, not an hour back, that he was keepin’ you,” continued Black Heber, unmoved, pointing at Charles. “Be that true? Answer me, girl.”
“It’s a lie,” cried Catherine, in a shaking voice. “So help me God, it’s a lie!”
He loosed his hold on her.
“Open the gate, Catherine,” said he quietly. Then he took Charles’s cob by the head and looked up at its driver.
“Will ye drive on, like the lyin’ cur ye are, or will ye come down now and have it out wi’ me?”
“Let my horse go!” screamed the cattle-breeder. “Who be you, ye thief, stopping me an’ my nephew in the road?”
Charles bent forward and cut at Heber with his whip.
“Go on, then, if you be afeared,” said the shepherd, taking his hand from the bit. “It’s the wisest choice that you’ve made. And every time ye see me, ye can remember that I know the coward ye are.”
“He’s forgotten to pay,” said Catherine blankly to the shepherd as they watched the gig disappear. “Oh! what’ll Mrs. Cockshow say?”