“I’ve been a little low-spirited,” she said, with a smile, “but it’s all over now. A good cry, you know, does one good sometimes.” So, making a vigorous effort, the charming maiden chatted merrily on until Adam’s garden gate was reached, and so it was impossible for him to refer to the matter any more. “Judy,” said Adam to his aged spouse, “it weean’t deea. That young Fuller’s worritin’ that poor lass te deead, an’ ah’s gannin’ te see aboot it.” Adam Olliver did “see about it,” in a very peculiar fashion indeed, but how he set about it, how he fared, and how he proved his right to be called “the old man eloquent,” must have a chapter to itself. CHAPTER X. BLACK MORRIS IS MORE FREE THAN WELCOME. “Ah me! for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear of tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth.” _Shakspeare._ The stern and ungenial way in which Blithe Natty had repulsed the advances of Black Morris in the matter of his suit for Lucy had only served to make that young “wastrel” more than ever eager and determined in his pursuit of the fairest prize in Waverdale. He had never known what it was to be fairly thwarted in anything upon which he had set his heart, and in addition to an uncontrolled self-will which threatened to be his ruin, he was possessed of a certain bull-dog tenacity of purpose, which was only strengthened and intensified by opposition. He was, undoubtedly, a tall and good-looking fellow, well endowed by nature, both as regards physique and brains; hence the village maidens of Nestleton were quite inclined to show him favour, and in some cases to make a tacit bid for his preference. All this tended to convince him that he was a sufficient match for the blacksmith’s daughter, and I must do him the justice to say that he was thoroughly fascinated with her beauty, and quite honest in his wooing. Black Morris watched his opportunities, and on several occasions managed to hap on Lucy Blyth, both by night and day, pressing on her his unwelcome suit in such a hot and inconsiderate fashion, that the scared girl scarcely dared to cross the threshold of her home, for fear of being subjected to his wild and passionate mode of wooing. She was positively alarmed, for there was something so lawless and desperate about his method of proceeding, and his headstrong character was so well known, that she did not think he would scruple at any excesses to gain his ends. One evening, as Lucy was returning from Farmer Houston’s kitchen, where the fortnightly preaching had been held, Black Morris met her in a shady nook by the churchyard wall, and as usual pressed upon her his undesired attention. She did her best to make her escape, but being emboldened by certain copious libations at the “Red Lion,” he seized her hand, put his arm around her, and strove to steal a kiss from the indignant maiden.