reflected half amused that she had lost the right to express herself on the question which was making politics ill-tempered but was now being discussed at her table with such well-bred courtesy.  John soon ceased to follow the wandering talk, and feeling what for him had the charm of romance in the flight of Josiah sat thinking over the scene of the warning at night, the scared fugitive in the cabin, and the lonely voyage down through the darkness of the rapids of the river.  Where would the man go?  Would they ever see him again?  They were to meet in far-away days and in hours far more perilous.  Then he was caught once more by gay stories of adventures on the plains and memories of Indian battles, until the wine had been drunk and the Squire took his friend to the library for an hour.

CHAPTER XI

Penhallow himself drove his guest to meet the night express to the East, and well pleased with his day returned to find his wife talking with Rivers and John.  He sat down with them at the fire in the hall, saying, “I wanted to keep Woodburn longer, but he was wise not to stay.  What are you two talking over—­you were laughing?”

“I,” said Rivers, “was hearing how that very courteous gentleman chanced to dine with these mortal enemies who stole his property.  I kept quiet, Mrs. Penhallow said nothing, John ate his dinner, and no one quarrelled.  I longed for Mr. Grey—­”

“For shame,” said Mrs. Ann.  “Tell him why we were laughing—­it was at nothing particular.”

“It was about poor old Mrs. Burton.”

“What about her?  If you can make that widow interesting in any way, I shall be grateful.”

“It was about her dead husband—­”

“Am I to hear it or not?” said Penhallow.  “What is it?”

“Why, what she said was that she was more than ever confirmed in her belief in special Providences, because Malcolm was so fond of tomatoes, and this year of his death not one of their tomatoes ripened.”

The Squire’s range of enjoyment of the comic had limitations, but this story was immensely enjoyed and to his taste.  He laughed in his hearty way.  “Did she tell you that, Mark, or has it improved in your hands?”

“No—­no, I got it from Grace, and he had it from the widow.  I do not think it seemed the least bit funny to Grace.”

“But after all,” said Mrs. Ann, “is it so very comic?”

“Oh, now,” said Penhallow, “we are in for a discussion on special Providences.  I can’t stand it to-night; I want something more definite.  My manager says sometimes, ‘I want to close out this-here business.’  Now I want to close out this abominable business about my poor Josiah.  You and your aunt, John, have been, as you may know, breaking the law of your country—­”

Rivers, surprised and still partially ignorant, looked from one to another.

“Oh, James!” remonstrated his wife, not overpleased.