"Shut your mouth! 'Tis your turn now to hear me! If you dare to speak again, I'll pull you off your horse and take the skin from your bones! What dirt d'you think I'm made of, to tell this wickedness in my ears? I wonder you ban't struck for it. Ten pounds for Sarah Jane; and you sit there on your horse under Heaven and nothing done against you! But it won't be forgot--remember that. 'Tis a black mark upon your name for evermore. Ten pounds; and you ought to be damned ten times over for every shilling of it! And if ever you come anigh her again, I'll break your neck, God's my judge! A man as she's said 'No' to a dozen times! Go and hang yourself, you grey rat! She wouldn't have you if you was made of gold, and well you know it. To say as I came between you! To say she'd be a happier woman along with you than with me! Happy with you--as reckon she'm worth ten pounds! There--get away after your ponies, and never you look into her face or mine again, or I'll knock your two eyes into one--so now you know!" He strode on up the hill, panting and raging like a bull, while Weekes looked after him. Jarratt had turned very grey under this torrent of abuse. He was stung by the other's scorn, and felt that he did not deserve it. But he kept his wits, and perceived that Brendon, huge and loutish though he might be, had proved too clever for him in this matter. The lover of Sarah Jane had trapped Mr. Weekes by a pretended greed, and led him into folly. He realized that probably the world in general, and Sarah Jane in particular, would presently hear that he had offered a ten-pound note for her; and then raised the figure reluctantly to fifteen. This was not likely to advance his reputation at Lydford, or elsewhere. He even imagined the schoolboys shouting vulgar remarks after him along the public way. Now he sat still on his horse for full five minutes. Then he rode after Brendon and overtook him. "Only one word," he said. "Forget this. I didn't understand you. I'll interfere with you no more. You were right, and I was wrong. As you are victorious, be generous. Don't let my folly go further. We all make mistakes. I have erred, Mr. Brendon, and I regret it." Brendon regarded Jarratt doubtfully. The giant still panted with his anger, and steam rolled out from his mouth in puffs upon the wet, dark air. "'Tis human to err; 'tis human to forgive. I was wrong--very wrong. I own it. Who can do more? We've all got our weak places, and money is mine. Let them without sin cast the first stone. Remember what I must feel to lose Sarah Jane." This last stroke answered its purpose, and Brendon relented very slowly. "I know well enough what that must be."