She repeated her assurance this evening; for now there came to Dingle, Lydia and the girl, Daisy Finch, Medora’s friend. They were at leisure, since the day was Saturday, and they had joined him by appointment to fulfil a certain task. Mrs. Trivett, unaware of Medora’s sentiments on the subject, had suggested that her daughter’s things should be moved from Ned’s house and taken to “The Waterman’s Arms,” there to await her, and Ned agreed. His purpose was to leave no trace of Medora in his house; and soon there would be no trace of him either, for he was about to seek work elsewhere and doubted not to find it. As they ascended the hill to Ashprington, Lydia repeated her assurance. She had good private reasons for uttering more ferocious sentiments than perhaps she felt. “It can’t be that he’ll ever make her happy,” she said. “It’s out of that man’s power to do it. And not only I say so, for Philander Knox, who is very understanding, said so, last week without any promptings from me. He said so from his knowledge of Kellock, while I say so from my knowledge of my child. And so I tell you, Ned, as I’ve told you before, that you’ll be very properly revenged, without lifting your hand to anybody.” “I shall do what I shall do,” he answered, “and I don’t know more than you what I shall do. I may take forty shillings or a month out of the man yet. Some days I feel like that; other days I do not. For all she’s done I know this: I understand your blasted daughter better than ever Kellock will.” “Mr. Knox says they’ll both get their punishment and he hopes you’ll let ’em be. And if you did, that would be the worst punishment. In Philander’s opinion there’s no call for anybody to interfere, because let ’em alone and they’ll punish each other to their dying day. That’s the terrible picture he paints of it.” “I’ll never understand,” he answered. “I’ll never know what choked her off me. There must have been secret enemies at work lying against me I reckon. But she could never put a case against me worth its weight in words, and to the last I didn’t dream what she was up to. A base, treacherous bit of play-acting I call it. And to crown all by that beastly letter.” “If you could believe in such things, I’d say Medora had the evil eye put upon her and was ill-wished into this,” said Daisy. “Such a girl as she was—so happy, and so fond of an outing, and so fond of cheerful company; and used to be so fond of Ned, I’m sure, for when you was first married, she was always telling me how she cared for you. Then the change came over her like bad weather. What did Jordan Kellock say, Ned, if I may ask?”