'I'm not angry. I did not say so. I hope that's enough,' I said, startled; and, notwithstanding my speech, _very_ angry, for I felt instinctively that Milly's despatch homeward was a mere trick, and I the dupe of this coarse stratagem. 'Well then, if ye baint angry, so much the better, Maud. I only want to know why you're afeard o' me. I never struck a man foul, much less hurt a girl, in my days; besides, Maud, I likes ye too well to hurt ye. Dang it, lass, you're my cousin, ye know, and cousins is all'ays together and lovin' like, an' none says again' it.' 'I've nothing to explain--there _is_ nothing to explain. I've been quite friendly,' I said, hurriedly. '_Friendly!_ Well, if there baint a cram! How can ye think it friendly, Maud, when ye won't a'most shake hands wi' me? It's enough to make a fellah sware, or cry a'most. Why d'ye like aggravatin' a poor devil? Now baint ye an ill-natured little puss, Maud, an' I likin' ye so well? You're the prettiest lass in Derbyshire; there's nothin' I wouldn't do for ye.' And he backed his declaration with an oath. 'Be so good, then, as to re-enter your dog-cart and drive away,' I replied, very much incensed. 'Now, there it is again! Ye can't speak me civil. Another fellah'd fly out, an' maybe kiss ye for spite; but I baint that sort, I'm all for coaxin' and kindness, an' ye won't let me. What _be_ you drivin' at, Maud?' 'I think I've said very plainly, sir, that I wish to be alone. You've _nothing_ to say, except utter nonsense, and I've heard quite enough. Once for all, I beg, sir, that you will be so good as to leave me.' 'Well, now, look here, Maud; I'll do anything you like--burn me if I don't--if you'll only jest be kind to me, like cousins should. What did I ever do to vex you? If you think I like any lass better than you--some fellah at Elverston's bin talkin', maybe--it's nout but lies an' nonsense. Not but there's lots o' wenches likes me well enough, though I be a plain lad, and speaks my mind straight out.' 'I can't see that you are so frank, sir, as you describe; you have just played a shabby trick to bring about this absurd and most disagreeable interview.' 'And supposin' I did send that fool, Milly, out o' the way, to talk a bit wi' you here, where's the harm? Dang it, lass, ye mustn't be too hard. Didn't I say I'd do whatever ye wished?' 'And you _won't_,' said I. 'Ye mean to get along out o' this? Well, now, I _will_. There! No use, of course, askin' you to kiss and be friends, before I go, as cousins should. Well, don't be riled, lass, I'm not askin' it; only mind, I do like you awful, and 'appen I'll find ye in better humour another time. Good-bye, Maud; I'll make ye like me at last.' And with these words, to my comfort, he addressed himself to his horse and pipe, and was soon honestly on his way to the moor. CHAPTER XLVI _THE RIVALS_