Ned thought of an autumn day, when he had landed not far off with Kellock and Medora at the boathouse; and he retraced all the months between. He was in melancholy mood and as yet had not determined on his future actions; but he had seen Matthew Trenchard, given notice and left the Mill.
The master was sympathetic and friendly. He accepted the situation and on this Saturday, as Dingle awaited others at the stepping-stones, the beaterman reflected that his activities at Dene were ended. He was now about to seek work elsewhere. On Monday, Kellock would return, and Mrs. Trivett reported that Jordan had already taken rooms for the present at “The Waterman’s Arms,” a little inn standing up the valley between Dene and Ashprington, at Bow Bridge.
Dingle still failed to grasp the extent of the disaster that had overtaken him. His moods alternated between wrath and grief and bewilderment at his loss. Mrs. Trivett supported him frankly and she introduced an element of mystery into the scandal, for she continued to declare it was not in Kellock’s character to do this thing. Even the fact that he had done it was powerless to alter her reiterated assertion. She never greatly blamed Kellock, even when others pointed out that men do not run away with other men’s wives on compulsion; and one fact she never ceased to dwell upon, which comforted Dingle in a negative sort of fashion.
She repeated her assurance this evening; for now there came to Dingle, Lydia and the girl, Daisy Finch, Medora’s friend. They were at leisure, since the day was Saturday, and they had joined him by appointment to fulfil a certain task. Mrs. Trivett, unaware of Medora’s sentiments on the subject, had suggested that her daughter’s things should be moved from Ned’s house and taken to “The Waterman’s Arms,” there to await her, and Ned agreed. His purpose was to leave no trace of Medora in his house; and soon there would be no trace of him either, for he was about to seek work elsewhere and doubted not to find it.
As they ascended the hill to Ashprington, Lydia repeated her assurance. She had good private reasons for uttering more ferocious sentiments than perhaps she felt.
“It can’t be that he’ll ever make her happy,” she said. “It’s out of that man’s power to do it. And not only I say so, for Philander Knox, who is very understanding, said so, last week without any promptings from me. He said so from his knowledge of Kellock, while I say so from my knowledge of my child. And so I tell you, Ned, as I’ve told you before, that you’ll be very properly revenged, without lifting your hand to anybody.”