“Tu late for that,” answered Ted, very positively. “The banns was up last Sunday, as your faither well knaws. An’ who be he to stand against an anointed clergyman in the house of the Lard? Us was axed out to Princetown for the first time last Sunday; an’ I get my pound a week after midsummer, as I’ve told your faither. Then us’ll take that cottage ’pon top of Merripit Hill, an’ auld men must fight theer awn battles, an’ us shall be out o’ earshot, thank God.” “Us be meeting trouble halfway, I hope,” she answered. “I’m sure I’ll keep a eye ’pon ‘Corban’ day an’ night so far as I can; but you knaw what a cat is. They’ve got theer own ideas an’ theer own affairs to look arter. Why, if you set p’liceman ’pon ’em, they’d only laugh at un. ‘Corban’s’ a cat as be that independent in his ways. He’ll brook no meddlin’ with—’specially of a night.” “Well caution un, for he’ve got a ’mazin’ deal of sense. I hope he won’t be overbold for his skin’s sake, ’cause my faither’s every bit so much a man of his word as Mr. Sage; an’ what he says he’ll stick to. He’ve had to shutt a gude few score o’ cats in his business; an’ he’ll add your tabby to the reckoning, sure as Judgement, if any more of his phaysants be stolen.” Thus, with common gloom of mind, the lovers separated and the clouds thickened around them. Their parents were no longer upon speaking terms, and tragedy hung heavy on the air. Then, in the deep and dewy silence of a June night, with Dart murmuring under the moon and the new-born foliage of the beech trees whispering their silky song, there burst upon the nocturnal peace vile uproar of gunpowder. Somebody had fired a gun, and the noise of it woke a thousand echoes and leapt with reverberations thrice repeated along the stone crowns of Hartland and Stannon and huge Broad Down. Gaffer Sage rushed to his window, but could see nothing more than a puff of white smoke rising lazily under the moon. Trembling with dark misgivings, he crept back to bed, but slept no more. ‘Corban’ usually came to the old man’s chamber at dawn, when Milly opened the house; but though she was stirring before five o’clock on the following morning, no ‘Corban’ bolted into the cottage when she unbarred the door; no familiar friend padded and purred “Good morning” to Mr. Sage; neither did ‘Corban’ appear at breakfast—a course very unusual with him. Noah could not eat his meal for anxiety. He pushed away his tea, rose and walked into the garden. Upon the other side of the wall Amos Oldreive was casting grain to his young pheasants. “Where’s my cat to?” asked Noah Sage, bluntly. “I heard your gun explode last night. Did you shutt un? I’ve a right to knaw.” Mr. Oldreive was clearly nervous and ill at ease, his sallow face needing wiping before he replied. But his eyes shone defiance; he pointed at the pheasants ere he answered.