"There is no need for words between thee and Joan. Choose between my
bidding and the outside o' my doors this night and for ever."

Even then he might have won his freedom like a man. But the old dread
was too deeply engrafted. The chains of servitude which he and the
whole neighbourhood wore were too heavy to be thrown lightly aside. So
he held out his hand, and Joan's fingers, passive and cold, lay for a
moment in his. The old man watched without any outward sign of
satisfaction.

"Thou ha' chosen well, nephew Douglas," he said, with marvellous but
quite unconscious irony. "I reckon, too, that we ha' chosen well to
elect you our pastor. Thou wilt have two pounds a week and Bailiff
Morrison's cottage. Neighbour Magee, there is a sup o' ale and some tea
in the kitchen."

John Magee and William Bull betrayed the first signs of real interest
they had exhibited in the proceedings. One by one they all filed out of
the room save Douglas Guest and Joan. Cicely had flitted away with the
first. They two were alone. He wondered, with a grim sense of the
humour of the thing, whether she was expecting any love-making to follow
upon so strange an engagement. He looked curiously at her. There was
no change in her face nor any sign of softening.

"I hope you will believe, Joan," he said, taking up a book and looking
for his place, "that I knew nothing of this, and that I am not in any
way responsible for it."

Her face seemed to darken as she rose and moved towards the door.