Nort objected faintly, but was borne along by a will stronger than his own. They stepped into the woods and walked silently side by side until they came to an opening near the edge of a field. Here there were beech trees with spaces around them, and the ground was softly clad in new green bracken and carpeted with leaves. Nort felt a kind of cold horror which he could not understand. "Fergus," he said, again trying to speak lightly, "it was you I saw looking in at David's window." "It was," said Fergus. "I couldna let ye escape me." They had now paused, and in spite of himself Nort was facing Fergus. "We must ha' it oot between us, Nort," said Fergus. "What do you mean? I don't understand." "Yes, ye do." Nort looked up at him suddenly. "Anthy?" "You've said it; ye ain't fit fer her, an' ye know it." Nort turned deadly pale. "Fergus," he said, "do you--have you----" "I promised Anthy's father I'd look after her, an' I wull." "But, Fergus, what have you got against me? I thought we were friends." "What's friendship to do wi' it? Ye ain't good enough for Anthy: an' I wull na' ha' ye breakin' her heart. Who are ye that ye should be lookin' upon a girl like that?" Fergus's voice was shaking with emotion. "Well, I know I'm not good enough, Fergus, you're right about that. No one is, I think. But I--I love her, Fergus." "Ye love her: ye think ye do: next week ye'll think ye don't." At this a flame of swift anger swept over Nort. "If I love her and she loves me, who else has got anything to say about it I'd like to know?" "Wull, I have," said Fergus grimly. Nort laughed, a nervous, fevered laugh, and threw out his arms in a gesture of impatience. "Well, what do you want me to do?" "Go away," said Fergus, "go away and let her alone. Go back whur ye come from, an' break no hearts." Although the words were gruff and short, there was a world of pleading in them, too. Fergus had no desire to hurt Nort, but he wanted to get him away forever from Hempfield. It was only Anthy that he had in mind. He must save Anthy. Nort felt this note of appeal, and answered in kind: "I can't do it, Fergus, and you have no right to ask me. If Anthy tells me to go, I will go. It is between us. Can't you see it?" "Wull," said Fergus, hopelessly, "you an' me must ha' it oot." With this, Fergus turned about and began to take off his coat. Nort remembered long afterward the look of Fergus deliberately taking off his coat--his angular, bony form, his wiry, freckled neck, his rough, red hair, his loose sleeves held up by gayly embroidered armlets, the trousers bagging in extremity at his knees. Even in that moment he felt a curious deep sense of pity, pity mingled with understanding, sweep over him. He had come some distance in the few short hours since Anthy's face had looked up into his. Fergus laid his coat and hat at the trunk of a beech tree and began slowly to roll up his sleeves. "Will ye fight wi' yer coat on or off?"