Thereafter ensued an argument over the dog, its breed, its price, and its condition, between the vicar and Tim. Dan listened with great amusement, and the buyer and seller went at it hard, the one trying to get the better of the other. At length a satisfactory bargain was concluded, and Tim, before taking his departure, accepted a drink of ale from the hospitable clergyman. "I'll go with you, Tim," said Dan, putting on his cap; "it will be company up to my dell." "Right, rye!" replied the Tinker, draining the tankard. "Good night t' ye, my noble gentleman," he added, nodding to Jarner. "Come and see me to-morrow; we will resume our conversation." This was the parting salutation of Jarner to Dan, and after he promised to call, he strode away with Tim into the darkness. At the top of the ridge, Dan halted to look down at the Gates of Dawn, which reared themselves like the portals of night in the gloom. Tim chuckled and clapped his companion heavily on the shoulder. "What about the prophecy, my lord?" said he, in a dry voice. "My lord!" repeated Dan, starting. "What, you know?" "I know that you are Lord Ardleigh, and that the prophecy of the Mother is fulfilled." CHAPTER XXI. THE DAYS PASS BY. Summer was giving place to autumn, and still Lord Ardleigh lingered at Farbis. A constant succession of fine days enabled him to continue his outdoor life; and so many weeks had he dwelt in the dell, that he quite looked on it in the light of a home. Instructed and guided by Meg, who was proficient in woodcraft, he soon became conversant with moors and valleys, and pine woods and adjacent hamlets. For miles round he explored the country, and learned the fascination exercised on the thoughtful mind by the barren hills. Those summer days were henceforth to rank among the pleasant memories of his life; and with reason, for were they not the days of his wooing? Who forgets the time when Cupid was king? It may be questioned whether he would have professed such ardent admiration of Bohemianism, had not Meg been with him daily from morn till sunset. She was his companion in all excursions, and treated him in a sisterly fashion. Such chilly affection he was far from relishing, being deeply in love, but the time was not yet ripe for him to speak. Meg had still to learn the pains and sweetness of love, but such knowledge had not yet come to her. In vain did Dan, by looks and words, endeavour to touch her heart. She could not understand, and though she professed to like him greatly, gave no sign of experiencing any deeper feeling. Her namesake Diana were scarce colder than this rustic maiden. "She is like Undine," complained Dan to his friend the vicar; "she has no soul." "No heart, you mean," replied Jarner, dryly; "there you are wrong. She has a warm and loving heart. Never a tale of poverty but----" "I know all that, sir; but I want her heart to melt to my tale, not to the whining of a sturdy mendicant."