’Whence will you get the money? Do you think I am a fool?’ asked Langford, angrily. His pride was hurt. His eyes flashed and his skin became of a livid complexion. He, the wealthiest man in Bratton Clovelly; he, the representative of the most respectable family there—one as old as the parish itself; he, the parson’s churchwarden, and the elder of the Methodist chapel—he had been refused by a poverty-stricken carrier’s daughter. The insult was unendurable. He stood up to leave the room, but when he had his hand on the latch he turned and came back. In the first access of wrath he had resolved to crush the carrier. He could do it. He had but to take back his horse, and the Vivid was reduced to a stationary condition. Luxmore might offer to buy the horse, but he could not do it. He knew how poor he was. Moreover, he could cut his business away from him at any moment by setting up the cripple as carrier. But he thought better of it. Of what avail to him if Luxmore were ruined? He desired to revenge himself on the Nanspians. The carrier was too small game to be hunted down, he was set on the humiliation of much bigger men than he. His envy and hatred of the Nanspians had by no means abated, and the killing of his dog Rover by young Hillary had excited it to frenzy. That his dog was a sheep-killer would not excuse Larry’s act. He did not allow that Rover was the culprit. His nephew had shot the dog out of malice, and had feigned as an excuse that he had caught the dog pursuing lambs. The wealthy yeoman might certainly, without difficulty, have found another girl less hard to please than Honor. All girls would not have thought with her. His money would have weighed with them. He could not understand his refusal. ’What is the matter with the girl?’ he said surlily. ’I thought her too wise to be in love. She has not set her heart on any boyish jackanapes, has she?’ ’Honor? Oh no! Honor has no sweetheart,’ said the father. ’It certainly is not that, Mr. Langford.’ ’Then what is it? What possible objection can she make? I’m not a beardless boy and a rosy-faced beauty, that is true.’ ’No, Mr. Langford, I am sure she has not a word against your age and personal appearance. Indeed, a young girl generally prefers as a husband one to whom she can look up, who is her superior in every way.’ ’I am that. What is it, then?’ ’Well, Mr. Langford,’ said the carrier, drawing the back of his hand across his lips, ’I think it is about this. She don’t like to desert me and the children. She promised her mother to stand by us, and Honor is so conscientious that what she has promised she will stick to.’ ’Oh,’ said Taverner, somewhat mollified to find that neither his age nor lack of beauty was objected to, ’that is it, is it?’