"Seems definite enough, don't it?" questioned the farmer, coming nearer. "Oh yes, there can be no mistake about it," William answered, trying his best to keep his voice steady. "Well, it don't make no difference to me," the farmer said indifferently. "I've made up my mind to clear out at Lady Day. There ain't no luck about the place. I keep feelin' as though there was a kind of blight upon it." "Indeed?" "The way the squire shoved it on to me wasn't square to David Penlogan. I can see it clear enough now, and I've never felt quite comfortable since David died. I keep feelin' at times as though he was about the place still." "Who--David?" "Ay. He was terrible fond of the place by all accounts. It was a pity Sir John didn't let him stay on. He might have been livin' to this day if he had." "Yes, that is quite true; but we must not forget that David is better off. He was a good man, if ever there was one." "Anyhow, the place don't prosper under me, somehow. And if the new landlord is willin' to lower the rent I shan't stay on. I've got my eye on something I think'll suit me better." And, turning slowly round, the farmer walked out of the shop. William stood staring at the door long after the farmer had disappeared. He had seen the possibility of the farm falling into other hands from the first, but had never fully realised till now how much that might mean to him. His own future was involved just as much as Ralph's. While there was a prospect of getting the farm he had not troubled about his own notice to quit. Now the whole problem would have to be thought out again. Nor was that all--nor even the most important part. He had seen, in fancy, Ruth installed in the old home that she loved so much; seen how Hillside had called to her more loudly and potently than all the pleadings of Sam Tremail; seen the gulf that now lay between them gradually close up and disappear; seen her advance to meet him till their hands had clasped in a bond that only death could break. It was a foolish fancy, perhaps, but he had not been able to help it taking possession of him from time to time, and with the passing of the days and weeks the fancy had become more and more vivid and real. "It is all over now," William said to himself, as he stood staring at the door. "Ralph will go abroad and leave her alone at home. Then will come the choice of going away to a strange country or going to Pentudy, and Sam, of course, will win," and William sighed, and dropped into a chair behind his desk. A minute or two later the door swung open again, and Ralph Penlogan stalked into the shop. William rose at once to his feet, and moved down inside the counter. "Well, William, any news yet?" Ralph questioned eagerly. William dropped his eyes slowly to the floor. "Yes, Ralph," he said, in a half-whisper. "We've missed it." "Missed it?" "Ay! I've been a bit afraid of it all along. You remember their lawyer told Mr. Jewell that there were several people after it."