"Perhaps not. Good husbands are just as rare as good wives." "Then--then perhaps Sunday after----?" persisted Brendon, whose mind had not wandered far from the mam proposition. "Perhaps," answered Sarah Jane. "You'm burning to hear tell what I shall say to the castle-keeper--ban't 'e now?" "Who wouldn't be--such a fateful thing! But I know my manners better than to ax, I hope." "I don't know what I'm going to say," declared she. "D'you know Jarratt Weekes?" "No, I don't." "Does anybody to Ruddyford?" "Most of 'em know him." "What do they say about him?" Brendon hesitated. "Can't answer that: wouldn't be fair to the man." "You have answered it!" she said, and laughed. A moment later he took his leave and strode slowly over the hills. So absorbed was he, that he did not watch his way, and presently tripped and fell. The accident cleared his mind. "This be a new thing in me," he thought. "That blessed, lovely she's bewitched me, if I know myself! She'll take the man, no doubt. And yet--why? Such a face as that might look as high as a farmer at the lowest." CHAPTER VII PLAIN SPEAKING A peace of unusual duration brooded over the dwelling of Philip Weekes; for his wife had gone to market on Saturday morning, but instead of returning home, according to her custom, in time for Sunday dinner at Lydford, she continued at Plymouth until the evening. He basked in silence like a cat in the sun; but a few friends were coming to drink tea, and Susan already made preparations for the event. Elsewhere, Sarah Jane, who was spending the day at Lydford, sat in a secret place with Jarratt Weekes and heard the things that she expected to hear. The old castle was not opened to visitors on Sunday, but Jarratt kept the keys, and, after dinner, took Sarah to his fortress and offered her marriage within its mediæval walls. She wore her blue dress; he held himself a grade above those men who habitually don black upon the seventh day, and was attired in a mustard-coloured tweed suit. "We'll come aloft," he said. "There's a window opens to the west, and I've put a seat there for visitors to sit in and look around. 'Tis out of sight of the street, and will shield you from the east wind that's blowing." He offered to assist her up the wooden stairway, but she made as though she did not see and followed him easily. Presently they sat together, and he sighed and twirled his gold watch-chain in a fashion to catch her eye. She noted his well-shaped and strong hand. "I dare say you think I'm a happy man, Sarah Jane," he began abruptly. "I don't think anything about you," she answered; "but all the same, you ought to be. Why not? Everything goes well with you, don't it? Mr. Huggins met me in the village as I came along. He says that you've bought Widow Routleigh's beautiful house at the corner, and only wait for her to die to go into it. And the new leat will run right through the orchard."