That night the weather changed from fair to foul. Dense vapours descended upon the Moor, driving mists wrapped hill and valley; scarce a mountain thrust its crown above the gloom. For two days the rain prevailed and Grace was in some fear that the change would delay Peter Norcot and lengthen his stay at Fox Tor Farm; but when she whispered that belief to Kekewich in the breakfast parlour on the morning of their visitor\'s departure, the old man showed no fear.
"He\'ll go. He\'m not the sort to change his plans for a scat o\' rain. You\'ll be rids of him by noon."
"Oh Kek, when shall I be rids of him altogether?"
"\'Twill be wiser to get rids of your dislike of the gentleman, Miss Grace. Master means to see you married by next Whitsuntide."
"Somebody will have to run away with me."
"There\'s many would be very willing, I doubt not. But them as runs away with a maid, will often run away from her come presently. In this here vale o\' tears, the hard deed be the wisest, nine times out o\' ten. You\'m so butivul as a painted picture; but your sort is often miserable in their lives, just because \'love\' be the first thought and only thought in every heart as sees \'em. So you pretty ones get to think that love be the sole thing as matters."
"I\'m sure I don\'t, then; at least—I—oh, why do fathers plot and plan for us so? Is it right? Is it fair?"
"A grown-up faither must be wiser than a young giglet not out of her teens."
"Where\'s the wisdom of——?" began Grace; but her mother appeared at this moment, and Mr. Norcot followed with the master of Fox Tor Farm.
After breakfast the weather mended, and Malherb insisted that Peter should ride round the estate with him—a performance of which they had been disappointed on the previous day. Norcot obeyed and admired all things, but he ventured to doubt whether a plan for bringing water from a spring by way of an open conduit would serve the purpose in winter.
"It is like to freeze or choke with snow," he said.
"Nonsense!" answered Malherb. "Everybody here is always whining about what will happen come winter. Did not I see last winter here myself?"
"A very unusually mild one."
"Well, I don\'t fear it. But my men shiver at the name of it. It haunts their summer. They begin to see the phantom of it before September. Woodman and Beer are always crying about it. Is it not so, man?"
He addressed Mr. Beer, who was ploughing up potatoes with a yoke of oxen. The stalks had been drawn and collected in huge heaps, and now, with his coulter held close on the left of each row, Richard flung up fine tubers at every step, while Tom Putt, Mark Bickford, and several women, specially engaged for this important business, followed and filled the carts.
The crop was heavy, and Mr. Malherb regarded it triumphantly.
"These will astonish some of our neighbours, I fancy," he remarked.
"You must have brought this land with you!" commented Peter; and the farmer was constrained to admit that the soil had called for costly preparation.
The weather broke anon, and before midday the mist lifted sluggishly to the crowns of the hills, sulked there awhile, then prepared to roll down again.
At his parting meal Norcot had some speech with Grace and, afterwards, succeeded in winning a little conversation with her alone. She showed indifference and impatience. Then he interested her by describing his visit to Prince Town.
"The hero of the chisel honoured me with his attention. I am to do him a service if I can. He is a gentleman from the State of Vermont. He congratulated me on my fortune and I expressed a hope that he might be at your wedding. If I win his parole for him, it is quite possible that he may be."
"I am resolved with all my soul and all my strength never, never to marry you, Peter; and you know it; and you are ungenerous and cruel to press it."
Mr. Norcot nodded thoughtfully.
"Nothing in the world like a hearty resolution," he answered. "\'I have seen a woman resolve to be in the wrong all the days of her life; and by the help of her resolution, she has kept her word to a tittle.\' But not so Grace Malherb. She is too sensible for that. I can leave my future happiness with absolute confidence in her little hands."
"My happiness is of no account!"
"Your happiness is my own. But let us return to Cecil Stark. A handsome and a gallant lad. He and his companions should enjoy parole without a doubt; and it may be that I shall assist them in that direction."
"You\'re a fool for your pains," declared Maurice Malherb, who entered at this moment. "Are there not enough of his kidney quartered all round about at Moreton, Tavistock, Ashburton and elsewhere? Certain of the Americans have broken their parole as it is. Conceive, if you can, the mind capable of such a crime. A dog has more sense of honour than these people."
"There are both heroes and rascals among them as amongst us all. You know my weakness for physical perfection. He was such a magnificent lad—Stark, I mean. And sailors always get upon the blind side of me. I find them so sterling and so simple. Of course, \'they that go down to the sea in ships, that do their business in great waters,\' surprise one, since you might suppose that no man of intelligence would willingly select such a deplorable profession; yet I like \'em for their modesty and humble behaviour. I shall release Commodore Miller and the rest, I believe, if Lord Hamilton prove still my friend. He is persona grata with the Regent."
"And so is Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt at Tor Royal. I am almost minded to pit my influence against yours," said Malherb, half in jest, half in earnest. "I am myself privileged to know the Duke of Clarence, and at his table I was once honoured by meeting the Prince and received some flattering attention from him when he learned that I was a friend of Tyrwhitt."
"Oh, dad, don\'t!" pleaded Grace. "Let Peter free them if he can."
"And what interest have you in the matter, my dear?"
"Why, didn\'t the young man nearly knock my brains out? I have every right to be interested," declared his daughter.
Anon, Mr. Norcot set off for Chagford, and Grace, yielding to her father\'s wish, rode with him for some miles. Behind them followed John Lee and Thomas Putt. The former had come to escort Grace home again; the latter carried Mr. Norcot\'s luggage. As for Lee, Peter\'s well-knit figure and prosperous mien quite filled the forefront of his thoughts. His own helplessness especially crushed him when Norcot occupied his mind, and while Peter and Grace exchanged ideas, John kept a dark silence behind them, nor could Putt win any word from him.
At last Miss Malherb reached the turning-point and prepared to take her farewell.
"I wish you could find a reason for your coldness," said Norcot, as they drew up on the lonely heights of Believer. "I\'m a logical man. If you convinced me of error, ............