Red Ratcliffe moved away as his cousin came up, for he had no wish to make further sport for her yet awhile. "Fright her, poor lambling, would it?" he muttered. "The Lean Man’s care for her is wondrous—but what if he knew that I had learned more to-day than ever he sent me out in search of?" "Come here, Janet," said Nicholas, as the girl halted, doubtful whether he wanted speech of her. "There has been somewhat on my tongue this long while past, and every time I see thee come in from these fond walks of thine, I read two things more clearly." "And what are they, grandfather?" she said, slipping a coaxing hand into his. "That the wind gives thee beauty enough to tempt any man—and that there’s danger in it so long as we’re at feud with the Waynes." "But that is an old tale, sir," she pouted, "and—and no harm has come to me as yet." "The more cause to fear it then, to-morrow, or the next day after. See, lass, I would not deal hardly with thee, but I’ll not give way on this one point, plead as thou wilt. There are Ratcliffes in plenty who want thee in wedlock, and ’tis time thou hadst a strong arm about thee. Thou’lt wander less abroad, I warrant, soon as thou hast a goodman." "But, grandfather, I do not want to——" "Be quiet, child! And let an older head take better care of thee than thou wilt ever take of thyself. Besides, they are so hot for thee, one and another, that there’s danger of a feud among ourselves if the matter is not settled one way or the other. Red Ratcliffe asked me for thee only yesternight." "If the world held him and me, sir, I would go to the far side of it and leave him the other half," she cried, with childish vehemence. "Well, well, there are others. I gave him free leave to win thee if he could, and he must do his own pleading now." They stood by the water-side awhile in silence, the girl in sore fear of what this new mood of her grandfather’s might bring, and Nicholas returning to the foolish scrap of goblin-lore with which Red Ratcliffe had just now disquieted him. Do as he would, the Lean Man could not hide from himself that a dread the more potent for its vagueness, had been creeping in on him ever since he learned what had lain on the Marsh doorway when he went to nail his token on the oak. Broad noon as it was now, the light lay heavy on the water, and Nicholas could not keep his eyes from it, nor his mind from the legend that named it the Brown Dog’s lair. "Janet," he said, looking up at her with a light in his keen eyes which she had never yet seen there, "there’s a weak link, they say, in every man’s chain of life, and it has taken me three-score years to find out mine. This Barguest that they talk of? Dost credit him, lass?" She glanced quickly at him, puzzled by the vague terror in his voice. "I have lived with the voices of the moor," she answered gravely, "till I can doubt plain flesh and blood more easily than Barguest, and the Sorrowful Woman, and——"