George Lechmere had indeed gone away with anger in his heart. He
knew that Captain Mallett was on the point of leaving with his
regiment for India, and yet to see him chatting familiarly with
Martha excited in him a passionate feeling of grievance against
her.
"It matters nought who it is," he muttered to himself. "She is ever
ready to carry on with anyone, while she can hardly give me a civil
word when I call. I know that if we were to marry it would be just
the same thing, and that I am a fool to stop here and let it vex
me. It would be better for me to get right out of it. John is old
enough to take my place on the farm. Some of these days I will take
the Queen's shilling. If I were once away I should not be always
thinking of her. I know I am a fool to let a girl trouble me so,
but I can't help it. If I stay here I know that I shall do mischief
either to her or to someone else. I felt like doing it last month
when she was over at that business at Squire Carthew's--he is just
such another one as Captain Mallett, only he is a bad landlord,
while ours is a good one. What made him think of asking all his own
tenantry, and a good many of us round, and getting up a cricket
match and a dance on the grass is more than I can say.
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