'
A few days after this little interview with Meg, as Milly and I were
walking briskly--for it was a clear frosty day--along the pleasant slopes
of the sheep-walk, we were overtaken by Dudley Ruthyn. It was not a
pleasant surprise. There was this mitigation, however: we were on foot, and
he driving in a dog-cart along the track leading to the moor, with his dogs
and gun. He brought his horse for a moment to a walk, and with a careless
nod to me, removing his short pipe from his mouth, he said--
'Governor's callin' for ye, Milly; and he told me to send you slick home to
him if I saw you, and I think he'll gi'e ye some money; but ye better take
him while he's in the humour, lass, or mayhap ye'll go long without.'
And with those words, apparently intent on his game, he nodded again,
and, pipe in mouth, drove at a quick trot over the slope of the hill, and
disappeared.
So I agreed to await Milly's return while she ran home, and rejoined me
where I was. Away she ran, in high spirits, and I wandered listlessly about
in search of some convenient spot to sit down upon, for I was a little
tired.
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