"You dirty coward! No, you shan't marry me, and you shouldn't if you crawled to me across the whole world on your knees, and prayed to me to forgive you. And if you're well out of it, what am I? And don't you think you've heard the last of this, because you have not. I've got good friends and strong friends in the world, though you'd like to fancy as I was friendless and outcast, for men like you to spit on. But I can fight my own battles very well, come to that, as you shall find; and I'll have you up for breach, God's my judge; and if decent men don't bring in proper, terrifying damages against you, I'll ask you to forgive me. Yes, I'll make your name laughed at from one end of the Moor to t'other, as you shall find afore you'm many days older." He stood still before this threat, and, finding that he did not answer, she left him and hastened home. There she blazed her startling news. Cora's own attitude towards the truth was now one of indifference. She raged against her fate, and for the time being could not look forward. Phyllis alone displayed grief. She was engaged to a young baker at Cornwood, and feared for her own romance: therefore she wept and revealed the liveliest concern. But Heathman, perceiving Priscilla's indifference, exhibited the like. It appeared that mother and son were glad rather than regretful at this escape of truth. Mrs. Lintern, however, exhibited exceeding wonder, if little dismay. She was sorry for Cora, but not for herself. "I had a feeling, strong as death in me, that 'twould come to light," she said. "Somehow I always knew that the thing must struggle out sometime. Many and many actually knew it in their hearts, by a sort of understanding--like a dog's reason. And I knew they knew it. But the truth was never openly thrust in my face till he died, and Eliza Gollop spoke it. And, she being what she is, none believed her; and 'twas enough that she should whisper scandal for the better sort to flout her and turn a deaf ear. And now it's out, and the great wonder in me ban't that 'tis out, but who let it out. For the moment it looks as if 'twas a miracle; yet, no doubt, time will clear that too." "I suppose you'll go now," said Cora. "Anyway, if you don't, I shall. There's been nought but trouble and misery for me in this hole from my childhood upward." CHAPTER XI There visited Cadworthy Farm, on a Sunday afternoon, Priscilla Lintern with her son and her younger daughter. They came unexpectedly, though Rupert had told Heathman they would not be unwelcome. May was from home, and the business of preparing tea fell upon Milly Baskerville. Phyllis helped Rupert's wife in this operation, and while they were absent in the kitchen and the men went to the farm, Hester and Priscilla spoke together. The one discussed her son, the other her daughter and herself. "I've been coming over to see you this longful time," said Mrs. Baskerville, "but what with the weather and--and----"