"I hope you will not be sorry later on," Ralph answered dubiously. "Never!" was the firm reply. And he thought of Ruth, and wondered what the future had in store for him. For the rest of the way they drove in silence. There were things in the lives of both too sacred to be talked about. CHAPTER XXXII FOOD FOR REFLECTION There was widespread interest of a mild kind when it became known in St. Goram that Sir John Hamblyn had disposed of the freehold of Hillside Farm. It was an action altogether unprecedented in the history of the Hamblyn family. What it portended no one knew, but it seemed to crystallise into a concrete fact all the rumours that had been in circulation for the last two or three years. The first news reached Farmer Jenkins in a letter from Sir John. It was brief and to the point:-- "I have this day sold the freehold of Hillside Farm. Your new landlord will no doubt communicate with you shortly.--Yours truly, "JOHN HAMBLYN." Farmer Jenkins stared at the letter for a considerable time after he had mastered its contents. "So-ho!" he said to himself at length. "Now I understand why he wanted the matter of reduction of rent to stand over. 'Cute dog is Sir John. If he's sold the place on the basis of present rental he's swindled somebody. I wonder who the fool is who bought it. Anyhow, I won't stay here after Lady Day." And he pushed the letter into his pocket, pulled a weather-beaten wideawake hat over his bald pate, and started out in the direction of St. Goram. William Menire was standing behind his desk when Jenkins stumbled into his shop. He laid down his pen at once, and prepared himself to execute the farmer's order. It was not a large order by any means--something that had been forgotten on the previous day--and when the farmer had stuffed it into one of his big pockets he looked up suddenly and said-- "You ain't heard no news, I expect?" "What sort of news?" William questioned. "Oh, any sort." "Well, no. There doesn't seem to be much stirring at the present time." "More stirring than you think, perhaps," Jenkins said mysteriously. "That's possible, of course. Have you been hearing something?" "Squire's cleared out, ain't he?" "I hear he has practically closed the Manor for an indefinite period." "Purty hard up, I reckon." "Why do you think so?" "Took to sellin' his estate." "No!" William said, with a little gasp. "It's solemn truth. I got a letter from him just now sayin' he'd sold Hillside Farm." "Sold it?" "Them's his very words. Here's the letter, if you like to read it." William took the letter and retired to the window. He did not want the farmer to see his agitation. He had been waiting day after day for nearly a month for some definite news, and here it was in black and white. He wondered what Ralph would say when he heard. Once more his hopes had been blown to the wind. His dream of success, not for the first time or the second, had been dashed to the ground.