“Well, that’s no concern of yours, where you are, so long as you have your eatin’ and drinkin’. I must go, and your aunt thinks I mustn’t leave you alone. So be sharp; run and put what things you require together, and I will harness the cob.” “How long shall we be away, uncle?” “We shall be back to-morrow evening, or the day after. I can’t say. Come, be quick. I can’t wait talking with you; it is late already.” Kate obeyed, a little surprised. She speedily returned, with her little bundle tied up in a scarlet kerchief. Pasco was ready and waiting. He was looking up at the drift of the clouds. The wind was from the east and blowing strongly. Pepperill drove through the village. He halted at the public-house to call out the taverner, ask for a glass of ale, and tell him he was bound for Dartmoor. At the mill he again drew up, and shouted for the miller, who, on emerging from his door, saluted Pasco with the remark, “Why, you are on the road to-day a great deal. I thought you had gone this way already.” “So I had—to Newton; but there I learned something. The Government has come round to a reasonable mind, and will buy my timber. Not at Devonport, but at Portsmouth; and I am going to measure up. I ran home to tell my old woman. And now, by the way, I will settle that little account between us, if agreeable to you.” “Always right with me to receive,” said the miller. Pasco drew out a handful of money and discharged his debt. “Just receipt it, will you, with the date, and say what o’clock in the afternoon also—that there may be no mistake.” “You are not going to Brimpts to-night?” “Yes, I am. Business must be attended to.” “Rather late for the little maid by the time you get there.” “That can’t be helped—she is strong now.” Then Pepperill drove on. He continued his course without interruption, as the country he passed through was sparsely populated. Kate’s heart was full. She was in doubt whether to tell her uncle that which had taken place between herself and Walter Bramber. She would greatly have preferred to have made the communication to her aunt and let her inform Mr. Pepperill. She was afraid of Pasco. He was violent and brutal. Her aunt was merely harsh. Pasco had been very angry with her for refusing Jan Pooke, and she did not believe that he would receive with favour the communication she had to make relative to the schoolmaster. She dreaded another outburst. Yet her strong sense of duty pressed her to communicate to him what he must learn within a short time, from other lips if not from her own. Then ensued a painful struggle in her breast, and she was constrained to free herself at length, and to say— “Uncle, you know I refused Jan Pooke, but since then, what I could not say to him I have said to Walter Bramber, the schoolmaster.” “Oh, ah! Jan Pooke—yes, to be sure.” “No, not Jan, but the schoolmaster.”