There's Jacob the Mill, now I will go." Will looked at the cart uneasily as it rumbled up the street; already he was beginning to be ashamed of his rustic surroundings.
With keen sensitiveness Morva read his thoughts.
"Nay, there's no need for you to help me, Will.

I am used to the mill cart, and indeed to goodness, 'twould not suit with gloves and shining boots to be helping a girl into a red cart." "Twt, nonsense," said Will irritably; but he nevertheless allowed her to leave him, with a wave of her hand, and an amused twinkle in her eye.
As she hurried to catch the cart, he stood a moment moodily looking after her, his better nature prompting him to follow and help her, but it was too late; already the brilliant vehicle, with Morva and the burly Jacob sitting in it side by side, was swallowed up by the crowd of market people and cattle, and Will turned on his heel with a look of vexation on his face.
The market was at its liveliest, the sunny air laden with a babel of sounds.

Men and women chattered and chaffered, pigs shrieked, sheep bleated, and cattle lowed, but Will scarcely noticed the familiar sounds.

A light step and a soft voice, however, attracted his attention, and he saw approaching him two girls, who evidently belonged to a different class from those whose simple ways we have hitherto followed.

One was a lady of very ordinary appearance, but the other he recognised as Miss Vaughan of Nantmyny, a young lady whose beauty and pleasant manners were the frequent theme of the countryside gossip, "and no wonder," he thought, "she _is_ pretty!" "Ah! what a pity!" she was saying to her friend, who was evidently a young housekeeper intent upon her purchases, "the brooms are all gone! we're too late!" Will walked away hastily, lest standing upon that spot he might appear to be in some way connected with the broom girl.