A working-man in speech, in habit, and in garb, he made love always as a Beauregard. Indeed in the great moments of his life it was always one of those pale chivalrous gentlemen who stood out amid the motley and tumultuous concourse of the forbears who thronged his path. "But you _can_ help me, Ruth," he told her. "I got my weakness. I dare say you've heard tell." For the first time the girl in her, long hidden, peeped out at him, shy yet shrewd. "I remember what they used to say at the Hotel," she answered, with the overwhelming simplicity of the pure in heart. "You can help me conquer that," he urged. "No one else can, only you." She said nothing, but gazed at him with new eyes, sweet and very grave, that seemed to sum him up. At last he had moved her. Swift and sensitive almost as was she, he saw it instantly; and with the profound wisdom of the true lover said no more. CHAPTER LVII THE SURPRISE A few evenings later, he dropped off the lorry in the market-square, determined to pay Ruth a surprise visit two hours before his time, and walk home over Wind-hover afterwards. He ran down River Lane at the back of the slaughter-house, grinning to himself. At the bottom of the lane a group of young willows bending plume-like over the wall at the corner ambushed him from Frogs' Hall. Covered thus he approached the cottage on tip-toe with the grins, the conspicuous elbow-work and elaborate stealth of the happy conspirator. Ruth would have put the babe to bed. He would surprise her alone. Frogs' Hall stood on a bank a foot or two above the Brooks to lift it over the winter floods and high leap-tides. Two windows only, one above the other, looked out over the river. Ernie peeped from his ambush. The lower window was open; and a voice came through it. The voice was not that of Ruth, nor of her father or mother, but it was strangely familiar. "You don't want me," it was urging. "Very well. So be it. And I don't want to do you no harm. Why should I?--I shan't tell no one what I know. Only you must give me back that letter in exchange. Fair is fair. See, we've both made mistakes, you and me. That's the short of it. But there's no reason any one should know if you'll only be sensible." Ernie heard Ruth's answer, low and passionate. "I wun't give it you then!--I'll hold it over you. Then I'll know I got you safe. Show it your Church friends and Mrs. Trupp and all." Alf laughed harshly. "Think it over, my lass," he said. "I'll call again in a day or two. I can twist your tail, and I will if you want." He came out of the low-browed door, his eyes down, a thwarted look upon his face. It was not till he had descended the steps into the Brooks that he was aware of the man standing against the bunch of willows on his left. He turned about with a grunt and made off in the direction of Parson's Tye. A few yards away he turned again and came back swiftly, his eyes down, and face troubled. "Say, Ernie!" he began.