“Thank you, sir. The name is Inman,” she replied; and though she had schooled herself to repeat the word without revealing the abhorrence it caused her, a slight curl of the lip and contraction of the brow afforded signs the squire was not slow to interpret, especially as the information had been given in the coldest of tones. “I shall be making your husband’s acquaintance, no doubt,” he said kindly. “Meantime I wish you a Happy New Year—the happiest you have ever experienced!” “Thank you, sir,” she answered in the same unemotional voice. “I wish you the same!” When he was out of sight she stopped and stamped her foot. “Why can’t they leave me alone?” she muttered angrily. “The happiest I ever experienced! It’s likely, isn’t it?” She had reached a point in the road which was on a level with the top of the Cove, a hundred yards distant, and as she raised her clouded face she caught sight of the familiar landmarks and raised her hands to her eyes as if memory as well as vision could be blotted out. Then, with an impatient exclamation she turned and opening the gate on the opposite side of the road, raced across the crisp grass of the moor as though she fled from a pursuer. It was in vain, for the huntsman was within her breast, and when she stopped from sheer exhaustion on the steep slopes of Kirkby Fell, she realised the fruitlessness of flight and laughed at her folly. “Fool and coward!” she said aloud; and her feelings found relief in the very sound of her voice though it was charged with scorn. “Can’t you lie on the bed you’ve made for yourself without whining and crying like a chained puppy? Are you going to let everybody see what an idiot you’ve been? ‘Marry in haste and repent at leisure!’ That’s what they’ll say, wagging their wise heads. What business is it of theirs if I do repent—the twopenny-ha’penny gossips?” The wind whistled on the height and stung her ears until they became ashen-coloured rather than blue; but she experienced no sense of physical discomfort, though after the one hot outburst she turned her feet homewards. By and by she raised her eyes, and looking eastwards saw the great sweep of the Cove far below, and again averted her head. But she recovered herself in a moment, and forced her gaze back. “You silly fool!” she said. “The Cove’ll neither tell tales nor snigger at you!” She lashed her soul with scorn as mercilessly as the wind scourged her body, and what the force outside of her could not accomplish the spirit inside effected with ease, for she shuddered as she looked on the scene of her frustrated hopes, though she made her eyes sweep the whole circumference of the crag. “Now!” she said in a quieter tone; “go back, Nancy Inman, and speak smoothly to your lord, and put blinkers on your eyes when Baldwin and Keturah sneer at you.” The mid-day meal had been in progress some minutes when Nancy entered the kitchen, and the girl read in the black looks of each face promise of an impending storm.