"One may answer with absolute certainty that he would not, Mr. Malherb. In fact, the constitution of the realm--She is, however, of the stuff that Duchesses are made; I know that perfectly; while I can never hope to be more than a plain man--perhaps a knight and a member of Parliament, if all goes well--yet----" "She is yours and she'll have an uncommonly good husband," said Mr. Malherb shortly. "Now talk of the farm. Did you note my sheep upon the Moor?" "I did. They look most prosperous." "There's a rascally law here that denies me the right to pasture more cattle on the Forest than I can winter upon the farm. For the overplus I am called to pay as though a stranger to Venville rights. A monstrous injustice, as I've told 'em. But to meet it I must build new great byres. Did you note the work?" "I saw no new byres," answered Peter. "Nay--I forgot. They are not yet begun. But so clearly do I view them in my mind, that for the moment I thought they existed already." "You incur tremendous expenses." "Why, naturally so. One does not come to Dartmoor empty-handed. To tame a desert and turn it into an important agricultural centre calls for capital among other things. Now let us join the ladies." "Gladly," returned Mr. Norcot. "Those are the pleasantest words I can hear spoken under this roof. 'Tis not always so--but here. 'And beauty draws us with a single hair.' I wrote that to Grace when I heard that she had caught her first trout. She never answers my letters, by the way." Presently the visitor told of his uncle's death. The story proved dramatic, and Mr. Norcot's method of delivering it was very deliberate and effective. Her kinsman's unhappy end specially interested Annabel, who had known him intimately in earlier days. "You are to understand that the cloud fell upon my poor Uncle Norman when his wife left him. Some might have held her departure a happy circumstance, seeing the light nature of the minx; he took his fortune differently. To us it may seem strange that any circumstances would make life unendurable--apart from the question of morals. Massenger has a word on that--a sort of answer to Hamlet. "'This life's a fort committed to my trust, Which I must not yield up till it be forced.' Poor verse, but good sense. Well, there came a day when I made yet another attempt to lift my uncle from his deep despondency; and I thought that I had succeeded, for he consented to come upon the Moor and take his gun. I was to fish; he proposed to shoot duck--his favourite amusement in the old times. I rejoiced, little guessing his dark purpose. Indeed, who could have done so with a mind so lofty? What does Blair say in 'The Grave'? "'Self-murder! Name it not; our island's shame; That makes her the reproach of neighb'ring states.'