"He might marry himself," said Susan. "He's not the sort to hurry it," answered the girl. "He don't care for women overmuch seemingly." Dinah drank a cup of milk and presently set out to walk home. Susan admired her courage. "Nothing daunts you," she said. "I wouldn't go down through the woods in the night by myself for the world." "Night's got no more to it than day," declared the other. "I like it--specially when you have such a lot of trouble on your mind." She met Maynard returning home, but did not stop more than a moment. "I'm coming Sunday week," she said, "and Cousin Joe's got no objection to us going out walking." "Good night, miss. I hope we'll have a fine day for it. Can't go else," he answered. "How's Mr. Withycombe?" "Suffering a good bit I'm sorry to say." "I'm sorry, too." Lawrence had forgotten the question of the walk while with the old huntsman. Now he considered it and was glad that Dinah had spoken about it in her open fashion. He apprehended pleasure from it, yet doubted a little. There hung a shadow over his reflections--something to which he could not have set a word. In so much that the shade should hover over his own thoughts it amused him, and assured that it could not cloud Dinah's, he dismissed the futility from his mind. CHAPTER XIV THE FACE ON THE ROCK The day came for Dinah's walk with Lawrence Maynard, and though the sky lowered at dawn, before noon the wind had travelled north of west and there was no longer any fear of rain. They set out, climbed the Beacon and advanced by those rolling stretches of heath and stone that extend to the north of it. John Bamsey had been to see the Stockmans, and it seemed that his mother, or sister, had now made it plain to him that Dinah would never change her mind. "He's taking it ill," said Lawrence. "He's not standing up against what he's got to suffer in a very good spirit." "Us must pray that the right one will come along," answered Dinah. They talked but little on their way, reached the White Gate, held to the winding road awhile, then returned to the moors and presently stood looking down into the deserted quarries of Hey Tor. "I'll show you the face on the rock when we turn," he said. "I wanted for you to see this first. A very interesting place and known to me since I was a boy." Thus he opened a measure of the confidence he designed for her. All the truth about himself he did not propose to tell; but there were things that he could trust to her; and he meant to do so. His purpose was vague and sprang from no deep emotion. He thought only to distract her mind, perhaps amuse her, and for a time arrest the melancholy flow of her thinking. For she was not cheerful and as yet no outlet for her life and energies had been discovered. Benjamin Bamsey proved obdurate in the matter of her future, and there was come a new and painful element into the life at Green Hayes.