"Then there was a party at Pendarrel last night?" Randolph said, in an inquiring tone.
"A party! Indeed I should say there was," Jeffrey answered. "Why, sir, all the country was there from far and wide; all but ours from Trevethlan! And Squire Melcomb of Tolpeden, over the hill yonder, that the folks say is to marry Miss Mildred."
Randolph smiled. "What," said he; "is that so publicly known?"
"It seems like it," Jeffrey said. "But there's strife on foot between our people and Pendar'l. There's a deal of grumbling and threatening down there on the green. They do say as the wedding is fixed for quite soon."
Randolph asked no more, but proceeded on his way. He had not got far from the gates when he met the unrequited lover, Edward Owen. The rustic seemed desirous to say something, for he lingered after making his salute.
"What is it, Edward?" his master asked, "what is the matter?"
"Why, sir, then the folks are just wanting to know what this law-suit is about. You see, sir, we think Pendar'l ha' got quite enough as was ours, and we ought to have some back, rather than give up any more. And the country's a little unquiet just now, and there's no saying exactly what may happen."
"And I am sorry to hear, Edward," Randolph said, "that you have been concerned in the disquiet. It will lead to no good."
"Sir," answered Owen, colouring, "you do not know how I have been urged on. And, for the others, there's a deal wrong in the country at this time."
"But this is not the way to right it, Owen," his master observed. "No good will be done by these night-meetings, and threats, and violence. It is not the way to set things right. You cannot frighten people into doing what you wish. And if you are mixed up with these wrong-doers, you will get into mischief. You will be led further than you meant to go."