“Oh, indeed! Well, then, that’s all right, and you’ll be heartily welcome. The place has been done up tidy for you, Joan, by the same man that has been working at Rosham to make ready for the bride. She’s come home to-day too, and it ain’t often in these parts that we have two brides home-coming together. It makes one wonder which of the husbands is the happier man. Well, here we are at Bradmouth, so if you’ll come along to the Crown and Mitre I’ll get my cart and we’ll drive together. There are new folks there now. Your aunt’s in jail, and your uncle is in the workhouse; and both well suited, say I, though p‘raps you will think them a loss.” To all this talk, and much more like it, Joan made little or no answer. She was not in a condition to observe people or things closely, nevertheless it struck her that there was something very strange about Samuel’s manner. It occurred to her even that he must have been drinking, so wild were his looks and so palpable his efforts to keep his words and gestures under some sort of control. Presently they were seated in the cart and had started for Moor Farm. The horse was a young and powerful animal, but Samuel drove it quietly enough till they were clear of the village. Then he commenced to shout at it and to lash it with his whip, till the terrified beast broke into a gallop and they were tearing along the road at a racing pace. “We can’t get home too fast, can we, darling?” he yelled into her ear, “and the nag knows it. Come on, Sir Henry,—come on! You know that a pretty woman likes to go the pace, don’t you?” and again he brought down his heavy whip across the horse’s flanks. Joan clung to the rail of the cart, clenched her teeth and said nothing. Luckily the last half-mile of the road ran up a steep incline, and, notwithstanding Rock’s blows and urgings, the horse, being grass-fed, became blown, and was forced to moderate its pace. Opposite the door of the house Rock pulled it up so suddenly that Joan was almost thrown on to her head; but, recovering her balance, she descended from the cart; which her husband gave into the charge of a labourer. “Here’s your missus come home at last, John,” he said, with an idiotic chuckle. “Look at her: she’s a sight for sore eyes, isn’t she?” “Glad to see her, I’m sure,” answered the man. “But if you drive that there horse so you’ll break his wind, that’s all, or he’ll break your neck, master.” “Ah! John, but you see your missus likes to go fast. We’ve been too slow up at Moor Farm, but all that’s going to be changed now.” As he spoke two great dogs rushed round the corner of the house baying, and one of them, seeing that Joan was a stranger, leapt at her and tore the sleeve of her dress. She cried out in fear, and the man, John, running from the head of the horse, beat the dogs back.