she had changed her mind. She had erred--she
confessed it. She had been far from well at the time and, upon
reconsideration of the proposal, had felt she would never be able to
make Mr. Blee happy, or enjoy happiness with him.

As a matter of fact, Mrs. Coomstock had accepted both suitors on one and
the same afternoon. First Gaffer, who had made repeated but rather vague
allusion to a sum of three hundred pounds in ready money, was taken
definitely; while upon his departure, the widow, only dimly conscious of
what was settled with her former admirer, said, "Yes" to Billy in his
turn. Had a third suitor called on that event-ful afternoon, it is quite
possible Mrs. Coomstock would have accepted him also.

The conversation with Mr. Blee was of short duration, and ended by
Billy calling down a comprehensive curse on the faithless one and
returning to Monks Barton. He had attached little importance to
Lezzard's public protest, upon subsequent consideration and after the
first shock of hearing it; but there was no possibility of doubting what
he now learned from Mrs. Coomstock's own lips. That she had in reality
changed her mind appeared only too certain.

So he went home again in the last extremity of fury, and Phoebe, who was
alone at the time, found herself swept by the hurricane of his wrath. He
entered snorting and puffing, flung his hat on the settle, his stick
into the corner; then, dropping into a seat by the fire, he began taking
off his gaiters with much snuffling and mumbling and repeated
inarticulate explosions of breath. This cat-like splutter always
indicated deep feeling in Mr. Blee, and Phoebe asked with concern what
was the matter now.

"Matter? Tchut--Tchut--Theer ban't no God--that's what's the matter!"

"Billy! How can you?"

"She'm gwaine to marry t'other, arter all! From her awn lips I've heard
it! That's what I get for being a church member from the womb! That's my
reward! God, indeed! Be them the ways o' a plain-dealin' God, who knaws
what's doin' in human hearts? No fay! Bunkum an' rot! I'll never lift my
voice in hymn nor psalm no more, nor pray a line o' prayer again. Who be
I to be treated like that? Drunken auld cat! I cussed her--I cussed her!
Wouldn't marry her now if she axed wi' her mouth in the dirt. Wheer's
justice to? Tell me that. Me in church, keepin' order 'mong the damn
boys generation arter generation, and him never inside the door since he
buried his wife. An' parson siding wi'