a situation which would have presented no difficulties to a coarser nature.  At last he went upstairs, listened a moment at Ann’s chamber door, and having smoked too much spent a thought-tormented night, out of which he won one conclusion—­the need to discuss his trouble with some friend.  At six he rose and dressed, asked the astonished cook for an egg and coffee, went to the stables, and ordered a groom to saddle horses and follow him.

A wild gallop over perilously slippery roads brought him to McGregor’s door, a quarter of a mile from the mills.  The doctor was at breakfast, and rose up astonished.  “What’s wrong now, Penhallow?” he said.

“Oh, everything—­everything.”

“Then sit down and let us talk.  What is it?”

The Squire took himself in hand and quietly related his story of the contract and his wife’s reception of what had been to him so agreeable until she had spoken.

“Can you bear—­I said it yesterday to Mrs. Penhallow—­a frank opinion?”

“Yes, from you—­anything.”

“Have no alarm about her health, my friend.  It is only the hysteria of a woman a little spoiled by too tender indulgence.”

The Squire did not like it, but said, “Oh, perhaps!  But now—­the rest—­the rest—­what am I to do?” The doctor sat still a while in perplexed thought.  “Take your time,” said Penhallow.  “I have sent the horses to the stable at the mills, where my partners are to meet me early to-day.”

The doctor said, “Mrs. Penhallow will be more or less herself to-day.  I will see her early.  There are several ways of dealing with this matter.  You can take out of the business her share of the stock.”

“That would be simple.  My partners would take it now and gladly.”

“What else you do depends on her condition of mind and the extent to which you are willing to give way before the persistency of a woman who feels and does not or can not reason.”

“Then I am not now to do anything but tell her that I will take her stock out of the business.”

“That may relieve her.  So far I can go with you.  But, my dear Penhallow, she may be utterly unreasonable about your manufacture of cannon, and what then you may do I cannot say.  How long will it be before you begin to turn out cannon?”

“Oh, two months or more.  Many changes will be needed, but we have meanwhile an order for rails from the Baltimore and Ohio.”

“Then we can wait.  Now I am off for Grey Pine.  See me about noon.  Don’t go back home now.  That’s all.”

While the Squire walked away to the mills, McGregor was uneasily moving his ponderous bulk to and fro in the room.

“It’s his damn tender, soft-hearted ways that will win in the end.  My old Indian guide used to say, ‘Much stick, good squaw.’  Ann Penhallow has never in her whole life had any stick.  Damn these sugar plum husbands!  I’d like to know what Miss Leila Grey thinks of this performance.  Now, there’s a woman!”