he had done amiss. And then she
came to me, and trembled, and stooped her head, and asked my pardon, if
she had been too proud with me.

'Winnie shall stop here to-night,' said I, for Tom Faggus still said
never a word all the while; but began to buckle his things on, for he
knew that women are to be met with wool, as the cannon-balls were at the
siege of Tiverton Castle; 'mother, I tell you, Winnie shall stop; else
I will go away with her, I never knew what it was, till now, to ride a
horse worth riding.'

'Young man,' said Tom Faggus, still preparing sternly to depart, 'you
know more about a horse than any man on Exmoor. Your mother may well be
proud of you, but she need have had no fear. As if I, Tom Faggus, your
father's cousin--and the only thing I am proud of--would ever have let
you mount my mare, which dukes and princes have vainly sought, except
for the courage in your eyes, and the look of your father about you. I
knew you could ride when I saw you, and rarely you have conquered. But
women don't understand us. Good-bye, John; I am proud of you, and I
hoped to have done you pleasure. And indeed I came full of some courtly
tales, that would have made your hair stand up. But though not a crust
have I tasted since this time yesterday, having given my meat to a
widow, I will go and starve on the moor far sooner than eat the best
supper that ever was cooked, in a place that has forgotten me.' With
that he fetched a heavy sigh, as if it had been for my father; and
feebly got upon Winnie's back, and she came to say farewell to me. He
lifted his hat to my mother, with a glance of sorrow, but never a word;
and to me he said, 'Open the gate, Cousin John, if you please. You have
beaten her so, that she cannot leap it, poor thing.'

But before he was truly gone out of our yard, my mother came softly
after him, with her afternoon apron across her eyes, and one hand ready
to offer him. Nevertheless, he made as if he had not seen her, though he
let his horse go slowly.

'Stop, Cousin Tom,' my mother said, 'a word with you, before you go.'

'Why, bless my heart!' Tom Faggus cried, with the form of his
countenance so changed, that I verily thought another man must have
leaped into his clothes--'do I see my Cousin Sarah? I thought every one
was ashamed of me, and afraid to offer me shelter, since I lost my best
cousin, John Ridd. 'Come here,' he used to say, 'Tom, come here, when
you are worried, and my wife shall take good