The stranger flew across the field, and the ploughman saw him bound
over the hedge, take Lucy into his arms, and drag her, bewildered and
enraptured, into the cottage. 'Why, dang me if it bean't Luke
Damerel!' exclaimed the rustic, slapping the thighs of his leather
breeches; 'how main glad the folks will be to see 'un!--I know what
I'll do.' Whereupon Roger trudged across the fields towards the
church. He happened to be one of the parish-ringers, and calling his
mates from the fields, they all trudged off to the bell-tower, and
rang out as merry a peal as ever was heard. The whole country was in
a commotion; the news ran like wild-fire from lip to lip and from ear
to ear, till the cottage was beset with visitors within and without.
But Luke heard no welcome, felt no grasp, but that of Lucy and his
mother. As to Lucy, an intense happiness thrilled through her, which
absorbed all her faculties, except that of feeling the full extent of
her bliss.

This story of patience, endurance, and faith in humble life is almost
ended. Luke's furlough only extended to a week, which he spent as an
inmate of the farm, at Modbury's earnest entreaty; for he now gave up
all hope of Lucy, and determined to help in rewarding her patience by
promoting the match with his rival. At the end of that time, Luke was
obliged to depart for Yorkshire, to meet the veterinary-surgeon and
purchase horses, in which he was found of the utmost use; but this,
together with his excellent character, operated most unfavourably for
his discharge. The authorities were unwilling to lose so good a
soldier. The interest of the 'squire,' however, whose son was a
cornet in Luke's troop, was set to work, the hard-earned money paid,
and the discharge obtained. Damerel got a farm let to him on
advantageous terms, close to his native village, and was married
amidst more noisy demonstrations by Roger and his company of ringers.