With a sly ominous
expression the girl replied 'that _Miss_ Lucy was in the best parlour
making tea for master.' This information gave poor Luke a sort of
panic. He trembled, turned pale, and hastily retreated from the
house. Discontented thoughts filled his mind. 'No doubt,' he said
almost aloud, as he walked homewards--'no doubt she'll _not_ consent
when I propose to marry her, though I can keep her. Farmer Modbury
will be a better match for her than a poor hard-working lad like me.
But I'll see about that--it shall be now or never. If she won't marry
me in a week, she never shall!' In truth, Luke had been feeling a
pang of jealousy creep over him ever since Lucy was promoted to be
Modbury's housekeeper; and that she should be admitted alone with him
into the best parlour to make his tea, confirmed what were previously
only suspicions. On entering the cottage, his wild looks almost
frightened his mother; but he was silent as to the cause, and went
sullenly to bed.
Farmer Modbury kept up the good old Devonshire custom of dining with
all the people in his employment; and the day after, when Luke with
the rest of his companions sat at the table, he watched the actions
and countenances of Lucy and her master, to catch new causes for the
tormenting feeling which possessed him.
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