Arrived, the goods were deposited inside the hut, the lads were dismissed, and David and Faith were left alone. David looked at his watch. They had still a handful of minutes before the parting. These flew fast, and yet, seated inside the door, and looking down at the village which the sun was bathing in the last glowing of evening, they remained silent. Each knew that a great change had come in their hitherto unchanging life, and it was difficult to separate premonition from substantial fact. The present fact did not represent all they felt, though it represented all on which they might speak together now. Looking round the room, at last Faith said: “Thee has all thee needs, David? Thee is sure?” He nodded. “I know not yet how little man may need. I have lived in plenty.” At that moment her eyes rested on the Cloistered House. “The Earl of Eglington would not call it plenty.” A shade passed over David’s face. “I know not how he would measure. Is his own field so wide?” “The spread of a peacock’s feather.” “What does thee know of him?” David asked the question absently. “I have eyes to see, Davy.” The shadows from that seeing were in her eyes as she spoke, but he did not observe them. “Thee sees but with half an eye,” she continued. “With both mine I have seen horses and carriages, and tall footmen, and wine and silver, and gilded furniture, and fine pictures, and rolls of new carpet--of Uncle Benn’s best carpets, Davy--and a billiard-table, and much else.” A cloud slowly gathered over David’s face, and he turned to her with an almost troubled surprise. “Thee has seen these things--and how?” “One day--thee was in Devon--one of the women was taken ill. They sent for me because the woman asked it. She was a Papist; but she begged that I should go with her to the hospital, as there was no time to send to Heddington for a nurse. She had seen me once in the house of the toll-gate keeper. Ill as she was, I could have laughed, for, as we went in the Earl’s carriage to the hospital-thirty miles it was--she said she felt at home with me, my dress being so like a nun’s. It was then I saw the Cloistered House within and learned what was afoot.” “In the Earl’s carriage indeed--and the Earl?” “He was in Ireland, burrowing among those tarnished baubles, his titles, and stripping the Irish Peter to clothe the English Paul.” “He means to make Hamley his home? From Ireland these furnishings come?” “So it seems. Henceforth the Cloistered House will have its doors flung wide. London and all the folk of Parliament will flutter along the dunes of Hamley.” “Then the bailiff will sit yonder within a year, for he is but a starved Irish peer.” “He lives to-day as though he would be rich tomorrow. He bids for fame and fortune, Davy.” “‘Tis as though a shirtless man should wear a broadcloth coat over a cotton vest.” “The world sees only the broadcloth coat. For the rest--” “For the rest, Faith?” “They see the man’s face, and--”