"Looks as if 'twas offering for bad weather," she answered, lifting her eyes to the sky. "I'm glad I didn't put on my new muslin." She sat on a stone and felt that he was now going to ask her to marry him. She was not enthusiastic about him at the bottom of her heart; but she knew that he would be rich and a good match for a girl in her position. She was prone to exaggerate her beauty, and had hoped better things from it than Mark Baskerville; but certain minor romances with more important men had come to nothing. She was practical and made herself see the bright side of the contract. He was humble and she could influence him as she pleased. He worshipped her and would doubtless continue to do so. Once his wife she proposed to waken in him a better conceit of himself and, when his father died, she would be able to 'blossom out,' as she put it to her sister, and hold her head high in the land. There were prospects. Nathan Baskerville was rich also, and he was childless. He liked Mark well, and on one occasion, when she came into the farm kitchen at Undershaugh suddenly, she overheard Nathan say to her mother, "No objection--none at all--a capital match for her." Mark put down the basket that carried their meal and took a seat beside Cora. "'Tisn't going to rain," he said. "I always know by my head if there's thunder in the elements. It gets a sort of heavy, aching feeling. Look yonder, the clouds are levelling off above the Moor so true as if they'd been planed. That's the wind's work. Why, there's enough blue showing to make you a new dress a'ready, Cora." "I'd love a dress of such blue as that. Blue's my colour," she said. "Yes, it is--though you look lovely enough in any colour." "I like to please you, Mark." "Oh, Cora, and don't you please me? Little you know--little you know. I've had it on my tongue a thousand times--yet it seems too bold--from such as me to you. Why, there's none you mightn't look to; and if you'd come of a higher havage, you'd have been among the loveliest ladies in the land. And so you are now, for that matter--only you're hid away in this savage old place--like a beautiful pearl under the wild sea." This had long been Cora's own opinion. She smiled and touched the hair on her hot forehead. "If there comes on a fog, I shall go out of curl in a minute," she said. Then, seeing that this prophecy silenced him, she spoke again. "I love to hear you tell these kind things, Mark. I'd sooner please you than any man living. Perhaps 'tis over-bold in me to say so; but I'm telling nought but truth."