Malherb stared at him, as a man who sees an unpleasant insect suddenly where before there was none. Then his expression changed. "You say well. Who shall? There is but one man. His duty it is, and he hangs back." Miss Norcot was much interested. "You mean her grandson? But he cannot, dear Mr. Malherb, for he, too, stands in danger of the law. He ought to have been hung long ago." "I mean Maurice Malherb," he said, speaking to himself rather than to her. "Farewell. Tell Peter that I have been here. If he learns anything of comfort, let him hasten to us at Fox Tor Farm." "Be of good cheer," said the clergyman; but Malherb did not answer. He departed and left them whispering together. Hardly had his horse gone out of the courtyard when Peter appeared. He had been above, in his bedchamber. "You have made your sister say the thing which was not, my dear Peter," said the clergyman mournfully. "Pardon me," she answered. "I did nothing of the sort. He asked where my brother was, and I said that Heaven knew. That was not to say I did not know." They fell to talking, and Maurice Malherb went slowly towards Chagford. For a moment he stopped at Norcot's place of business beside Teign river, and asked if Peter was there; but a doorkeeper shook his head, and the master went on his way to the "Three Crowns," that he might bait his horse before returning home. And as he passed the great manufactory, Maurice Malherb had been within twenty yards of his daughter; for there she was hidden; there, where hundreds of busy men and women circled round about her and the roar of water-wheels and the hum of looms made grand music of industry from dawn till eve, Grace Malherb was securely shut up in Norcot's private rooms. Two apartments had been prepared for her, and Peter's sister visited the girl every night after dark. The full extent of her brother's purpose Gertrude only suspected when he returned from London and brought the Rev. Relton Norcot along with him; but how Peter proposed to compass the marriage his sister had not yet comprehended. Her sympathies were with him, however, and she was true and trustworthy. She guessed which way things were tending. She understood now that Peter's sole reason for going to London was that he might procure a Special License of marriage; and she knew that he had got it. Gertrude doubted not that days--perhaps hours--would bring the sequel; and nightly she exhausted her powers of persuasion upon Grace from eleven o'clock until one, in the silent factory; but as yet the captive showed no signs of being tamed. Norcot had also striven with her, and now she was a chained fury, so that Peter told his sister frankly that he went in fear of his eyes. Even his equanimity had given out, and he was casting round to know by what channel the ceremony might be celebrated as quickly as possible. But no course of action appeared until the night before Malherb's visit.