"You and Robin!" he said, again. "Ay, ay! Briar Farm will be in
the best of care when I'm dead, and it'll thrive well with young
love and hope to keep it going!" He came up to her and took one of
her little hands in his own. "There, there!" he went on, patting
it gently--"We'll think no more of trouble and folly and mistakes
in life; it'll be all joy and peace for you, child! Take God's
good blessing of an honest lad's love and be happy with it! And
when I come home to-night,"--he paused and appeared to think for a
moment--"yes!--when I come home, let me hear that it's all clear
and straight between you--and we'll have the banns put up on
Sunday!"

She said not a word in answer. Her hand slid passively from his
hold,--and she never looked up. He hesitated for a moment--then
walked towards the door.

"You'll have all the day to yourself with Robin," he added,
glancing back at her--"There'll be no spies about the place, and
no one listening, as there was last night!"

She sprang up from her chair, moved at last by an impulse of
indignation.

"Who was it?" she asked--"I said nothing wrong--and I do not
care!--but who was it?"

A curious strained look came into old Hugo's eyes as he answered--

"Ned Landon."