"Oh, Iver! I don't know what I did. I was so frightened, and my head was so much in a whirl that I remember nothing more. You do not really think that I laughed." "They all said you did." "Iver, you know me too well to believe that I was other than frightened out of my wits. There are times when a laugh comes because the tears will not break out--it is a gasp of pain, of horror, nothing more. I remember, at my confirmation, when the Bishop laid his hands on us, that the girl beside me laughed; but it was only that she was feeling more than she could give token of any other way." "That's like enough," said Iver, and taking the poker he put the turf together to make it blaze; "I say, Matabel, they tell me that Jonas was a bad loser by the smash of the Wealden Bank, and that he was about to mortgage his little place. Of course, that is yours now--or belongs to the young shaver. There are a hundred pounds my mother left, and fifty given by my father, that I hold, and I don't mind doing anything in reason with it to prevent having the property get into the lawyer's hands. I wouldn't do it for Jonas; but I will for you or the shaver. Shall you manage the farm yourself? If I were you I would get Joe Filmer to do that. He's a good chap, honest as daylight, and worships you." "I don't know or think anything about that," said Mehetabel. "But you must do so. The Rocliffes have invaded the place, so my father says. They took possession directly Jonas was dead, and they are treating the farm as if it were their own. You are going to the Punch-Bowl at once, and I will assert your rights." "I am not going to the Punch-Bowl again," said Mehetabel, decisively. "You must. You have no other home." "That can be no home to me." "But--where are you going to live?" "I ask--" she looked at Iver with something of entreaty in her eyes--"May I not come and be servant here? I will do my duty, you need not doubt that." "I have no doubt about that," he answered. "But--but--" he hesitated, and probed the fire again, "you see, Matabel, it wouldn't do." "Why not?" "Oh, there are three or four reasons." She looked steadily at him, awaiting more. "In the first place," he said, with a little confusion, "there has been much chatter about me being on the jury, and some folk say that but for me you'd have been found guilty, and--" He did not complete the sentence. He had knocked a burning turf down on the hearth. He took the tongs, picked it up and replaced it. "I won't say there is not some truth in that. But that is not all, Matabel. I'm going to give up Guildford and live here." "You are!" Her eyes brightened.