"Ah! the rich never say a good word for the poor, my lady," said Mrs. Belk, with fawning deprecation. "If looks go for anything, my Samson ought to live in a palace. He's the finest wrestler in all the county, and the best shot, and the most daring rider----" "And the poorest man," finished Samson, with a coarse laugh, which betrayed his real nature. "Aye, aye, mother, if I'd money to play the swell, I'd cut a dash with the best of these fine, lily-handed gents." "What would you do?" asked Mrs. Belswin, curious to find out how different this man's soul was to his body. "Do!" echoed the giant, folding his arms; "why, madam, I'd keep a fine stable, and race my horses at the Derby. I'd marry a lady, and have a fine house with servants, and the finest of wine to drink and food to eat--that's what I'd do." "A very modest ambition, truly," said Mrs. Belswin, with a scarcely concealed sneer. "I presume you would not cultivate your brains." "I've had enough schooling," growled Belk, stroking his beard. "Mother made me learn things, and a fine time I had of it." "You were never a good boy, Samson," said his mother, shaking her head with a look of pride which belied her words. "Handsome is as handsome does--that's what I always tells him, my lady." "If it were handsome does as handsome is, your son would be a clever man," replied Mrs. Belswin, rising to go. Neither Mrs. Belk nor Samson were clever enough to understand this remark, but after a time a faint idea of what she meant dawned on the obtuse intellect of the giant, and he smiled approvingly. "Won't you have a glass of milk, my lady?" asked Mrs. Belk, dropping a curtsey. "No, thank you!" "May I have the honour of showing you the nearest way through the wood, madam?" said Belk, hat in hand, resuming his polite manner, and languid mode of speaking. "No, thank you, I know my way," answered Mrs. Belswin, coolly; "many thanks for your courtesy--good-day." When she had vanished, Samson Belk stood for some minutes in a brown study, then, recovering himself with a huge sigh, ordered his mother to bring him a mug of beer. "Eh, she's a fine madam that," he said, as he drank the ale; "got a spice of the devil in her too. I wish I could marry her." "That wouldn't do much good," said his mother contemptuously, "she's only a companion. Now if you married Miss Pethram, you'd have all this place, and be master here." "Not much chance of that," growled Belk, putting on his hat; "she's in love with that friend of parson's." "A whipper-snapper." "Aye, that he is. I could smash him with one hand; not any great shakes with money either, as I've heard tell. What'll Sir Rupert say to his courting?" "Well, I heard at the great house this morning, that Sir Rupert was on his way home." Belk scowled and shook his broad shoulders in an uneasy manner. He did not like Sir Rupert, who was a severe master, and therefore was not at all pleased to hear that his term of liberty would soon be over.