er than I am.
You do regular work for which you get regular pay--now I have no settled
work at all, and not much chance of pay, even for the book on which I've
been spending nearly a year of my time. You've got a house which you can
keep going--and very soon I shall not be able to afford so much as a
room!--think of that! And yet--I have the impertinence to ask you to
marry me! Forgive me, dear! It is, as you say, better to wait."

She came and entwined her arms about him.

"I'll wait a month," she said--"No longer, Angus! By that time, if you
don't marry me, I shall summons you for breach of promise!"

She smiled--but he still remained thoughtful.

"Angus!" she said suddenly--"I want to tell you--I shall have to go away
from Weircombe for a day--perhaps two days."

He looked surprised.

"Go away!" he echoed. "What for? Where to?"

She told him then of "old David's" last request to her, and of the duty
she had undertaken to perform.

He listened gravely.

"You must do it, of course," he said. "But will you have to travel far?"

"Some distance from Weircombe," she answered, evasively.

"May I not go with you?" he asked.

She hesitated.

"I promised----" she began.

"And you shall not break your word," he said, kissing her. "You are so
true, my Mary, that I wouldn't tempt you to change one word or even half
a word of what you have said to any one, living or dead. When do you
want to take this journey?"

"To-morrow, or the next day," she said. "I'll ask Mrs. Twitt to see to
the house and look after Charlie, and I'll be back again as quickly as I
can. Because, when I've given the papers over to David's friend, whoever
he is, I shall have nothing more to do but just come home."

This being settled, it was afterwards determined that the next day but
one would be the most convenient for her to go, as she could then avail
herself of the carrier's cart to take her as far as Minehead. But she
was not allowed to start on her unexpected travels without a burst of
prophecy from Mrs. Twitt.

"As I've said an' allus thought," said that estimable lady--"Old David
'ad suthin' 'idden in 'is 'art wot 'e never giv' away to nobody. Mark my
words, Mis' Deane!--'e 'ad a sin or a sorrer at the back of 'im, an'
whichever it do turn out to be I'm not a-goin' to blame 'im either way,
for bein' dead 'e's dead, an' them as sez unkind o' the dead is apt to
be picked morsels for the devil's gridiron. But now that you've got a
pa