"I don't feel like that. I'm Lawrence Maynard to myself, Dinah. T'other be dead and in his grave. My name was Courtier. There's some of the family about on Dartmoor yet. My great-grandfather was a Frenchman--a soldier took in the wars more than a hundred year ago. And the moor folk traded at the war prisons to Princetown, so he got to know a good few at prison market. Then he was tokened to a farmer's daughter, and after the peace he married her and stopped in England and started a family." "What's your other real name then?" "Gilbert, same as my father." "Us must be going," she said. "Shall I tell her to hot some more tea for you?" "No--I don't want no tea." He drank his cold cup at a draught and pressed her to eat a little; but she shook her head. "I'll see you home by New Bridge and then get up back through the woods, Dinah." "I can travel alone." "No, you mustn't do that." She said very little during the long tramp through a night-hidden land. The darkness, the loneliness, the rustle of the last dead leaves and the murmur of the wind chimed with her thoughts. She seemed hardly conscious of the man at her side. He strove once or twice to talk, but found it vain and soon fell into silence. At New Bridge Dinah spoke. "You'll always be 'Lawrence' to me," she said. "Tell me this. When are you going to see me again, after I've thought a bit?" "Like you to want to. We can meet somewhere." "You love me?" "Yes; as I never thought I could love anything. But how should you love me any more?" She did not answer immediately. For some distance they walked by the river. Then they reached a fork of the road where their paths divided; for here Dinah climbed to the left by a steep lane that would bring her to Lower Town and home, while Maynard must ascend into the woods. They stopped. "Will you do this?" she said. "Will you put the story of your life before Enoch Withycombe?" "Why, Dinah?" "To get his opinion on it--all--every bit." "Yes, if you like." "I do like. I'm very wishful to know what a man such as him would say." "If he's well enough, I'll see him to-morrow. It's been in my mind to tell him about myself before to-day." "I wish you had." "He shall hear it. I set great store by his sense. He might---- Can you get home from here? I'll come with you if you like." "No." "You've forgiven me?" "I'll think and think. Be there anything to forgive?" "I don't know. And yet I do. Yes--you think--then you'll find you've got to forgive me for ever loving you, Dinah." "You're life--you're life to me," she said. "Don't say small things like that. I'm only being sorry for all you've had to suffer all these years and years. I'll go on being sorry for you a long time yet. Then I'll see if I'm angry with you after. I can only think of one thing at a time."