A fortnight after the visit to the old blowing-house, Mr. Peter Norcot arrived from Chagford to stay a while at Fox Tor Farm, and with him he brought more snow. This fact by no means troubled his level temper. He was neither more plain-spoken nor less poetical than usual as he walked out with Grace after noon, and reminded her of Maurice Malherb\'s intention that she should marry during the coming summer.

"Do not think, my dear girl, that Peter is blind. He knows all about Endymion. But positively John Lee as a husband!"

"\'Tis not the first time I have bade you mind your own business, Peter. You have no right or reason to say these things to me. \'Tis worse than your rhymes. If you were half the man he is!"

"Hard words cannot break bones, or kill love. Do what you please; say what you like,"

"\'A very sandal I would be
To tread on—if trod on by thee.\'

I can even rise superior to the necessity of being loved back. I love on and suffer on.

"\'It is not for our good in ease to rest;
Man, like to cassia, when bruised is best.\'"


"I will never love you, nor marry you. Is not that enough?"

"Too much—more than I could bear, if I believed it. But you are very young, Grace. I am often relieved to remember that you are too young to know your own mind."

She was going to deny it indignantly; but stopped, vividly conscious that he had come near the mark. Therefore sadness followed anger in her face and cooled her cheek.

"I do most seriously believe that before next year you will find me a continual joy," declared Peter. "\'Tis high time the world should see what a husband awaits the making in me. Too long I\'ve pined alone.

"\'Life\'s a short summer—man a flower,
He dies—alas! how soon he dies.\'"


"\'He lives—alas! how long he lives!\' So has many an unhappy wife breathed to her soul; and so should I."

"You might, indeed, if, like certain foolish but authentic virgins, you married out of your status. Now John Lee——"

"Have done, or I\'ll never speak to you more!" cried Grace passionately. "I had rather a thousand times marry John Lee than you; and if I please, I will."

"Frankly, my poppet, you are something too much of a child to marry anybody yet. \'Winter and wedlock tame maids and beasts.\' A true West Country proverb that. But I\'d be your lover still, not your master. Vile word! In sober honesty, however, you can be very provoking, mistress."

"Never less than now. Walk quicker and save your breath; more snow is coming."

The transient gleam of sun that had drawn them out on to the Moor departed, and snow began to fall again.

"I\'ve wanted that to happen," said Mr. Norcot. "Now you shall hear a charming thing—not my own, I regret to say, but from Petronius Afranius—translated by one Smart. For its perfection you must make a snowball and hurl it at me."

"I\'m in no mood for fooling."

"I beg; I implore. \'Twill be worth your pains."

She bent and picked up some snow.

"Don\'t miss my manly bosom, or you\'ll spoil all," he said.

"There—I would it could cool your heart and freeze every thought of me out of your head!"

Grace flung the snow, and, letting it melt upon his coat, Mr. Norcot struck an attitude while he recited another rhyme. His eyes were full of the snow light and seemed harder and brighter than usual as he gazed at her.

"\'When, wanton fair, the snowy orb you throw,
I feel a fire before unknown in snow,
E\'en coldest ice I find has pow\'r to warm
y breast, when flung by Gracie\'s lovely arm!\'"


He swept off his hat and bowed; whereon she laughed outright.

"You should have been a player, for you are a most unreal man—for ever feigning to be something else than you are."

"Then marry me and find the kernel in the nut."

"How can I marry one I do not know?"

"Even such you should choose if you are wise; for the following sufficient reasons."

He prattled on, and presently Maurice Malherb joined them. The master had been that day in Prince Town upon various business, and he returned with news of a sort to interest his daughter. Now her eyes asked him a question and he answered it.

"I paid my respects to Commandant Short at the Prison. He is a gentleman, but I think the business of that place will tax his authority. A saint would grow impatient with the knaves."

"And your visitor?" inquired Mr. Norcot. "\'Twas a wonderful Providence that sent him here."

"The rascal! And yet Stark was one worthy of respect, had he been properly educated. He listened to me, as a young man should listen to his elders and betters. I could have found it in my heart to like him, but for his soaring nonsense and his disinclination to call treachery and revolt by their true names. Doubtless his ideas are the common property of his country. He suffered but a week\'s detention in the cachot and is now with his friends again."

Peter Norcot from under amber eyelashes studied Grace and found further material for interest.

"Another!" he said to himself. "An inflammable wench truly! Quick to catch fire from every torch but mine. Well, well—may war last until we are wedded. I ask no more."

"There\'s further news of a parochial sort," continued Malherb. "What think you, Grace? The old hag on the hill is off! She\'s left Siward\'s Cross and gone to a hovel near the Prison, where a few acres of land were to be let. She represented to the High Bailiff, the Duchy\'s man, that I\'d robbed her of her best cattle lairs when I raised my boundaries! The old liar has money too—ay, and more than money."

"A wonderful creature. I mind her eyes that sparkled with gorgonian fire; her starved abode, and her penury. It called to my recollection Lucilius—his miser and his mouse:—

"\'"You greedy rogue, what brings you to my house?"
Quoth an old miser to a little mouse;
"Friend," says the vermin, "you need have no fear,
I only lodge with you............