Meanwhile Sailor Cornick had gone on his way as far as the forking roads,
where he met Festus Derriman on foot. The latter, attracted by the
seaman's dress, and by seeing him come from the mill, at once accosted
him. Jim, with the greatest readiness, fell into conversation, and told
the same story as that he had related at the mill.
'Bob Loveday going to be married?' repeated Festus.
'You all seem struck of a heap wi' that.'
'No; I never heard news that pleased me more.'
When Cornick was gone, Festus, instead of passing straight on, halted on
the little bridge and meditated. Bob, being now interested elsewhere,
would probably not resent the siege of Anne's heart by another; there
could, at any rate, be no further possibility of that looming duel which
had troubled the yeoman's mind ever since his horse-play on Anne at the
house on the down. To march into the mill and propose to Mrs. Loveday
for Anne before John's interest could revive in her was, to this hero's
thinking, excellent discretion.
The day had already begun to darken when he entered, and the cheerful
fire shone red upon the floor and walls. Mrs. Loveday received him
alone, and asked him to take a seat by the chimney-corner, a little of
the old hankering for him as a son-in-law having permanently remained
with her.
'Your servant, Mrs. Loveday,' he said, 'and I will tell you at once what
I come for. You will say that I take time by the forelock when I inform
you that it is to push on my long-wished-for alliance wi' your daughter,
as I believe she is now a free woman again.'
'Thank you, Mr. Derriman,' said the mother placably. 'But she is ill at
present. I'll mention it to her when she is better.'
'Ask her to alter her cruel, cruel resolves against me, on the score
of--of my consuming passion for her. In short,' continued Festus,
dropping his parlour language in his warmth, 'I'll tell thee what, Dame
Loveday, I want the maid, and must have her.'
Mrs. Loveday replied that that was very plain speaking.
'Well, 'tis. But Bob has given her up. He never meant to marry her.
I'll tell you, Mrs. Loveday, what I have never told a soul before. I was
standing upon Budmouth Quay on that very day in last September that Bob
set sail, and I heard him say to his brother John that he gave your
daughter up.'
'Then it was very unmannerly of him to trifle with her so,' said Mrs.
Loveday warmly. 'Who did he give her up to?'