"Una, forgive me. You see how this unmans me--can you not understand how great must be the danger from which I wish to save you? Promise me what I ask you, for your own sake--ay, and for his."
"Yes, for his. Let him but attempt to cross your path again, and I will not hold my hand. I held it once--would to Heaven I had not! I say, for his sake, promise that you will hold no speech with him!"
"Father, what has he done to make you hate him so?" she asked.
"I cannot, I will not tell you more than this: His race has ruined my life and yours--ruined it beyond all reparation here and hereafter. No more. I wait for your promise."
"Good," he said. "I can trust you, child."
"Yes, you can trust me," she said, in a low voice; then with slow, listless steps she crossed the room and stole up-stairs.
The Savage, wholly unconscious of, and totally indifferent to, the fact that his every footstep was watched by Stephen, entered the "Bush" Inn and went straight to his room, the little knot of regular customers, who were drinking and smoking in the parlor, either rising respectfully as he entered or maintaining an equally respectful silence until he was out of hearing.
"Mr. Jack's a fine fellow," said the landlord, looking at the fire solemnly. "Did you notice his face as he went through? I'm afraid it's all over with the old squire. Well, well, rest his soul, I say. I'm not one to bear grudges against the dead."
There was, if not a hearty, a unanimous assent to this dutiful sentiment, and the landlord, encouraged, ventured a little further, looking first over his shoulder to see if the door was shut, and then glancing at a little wrinkled faced man who sat in the corner by the fireplace, and looked, in his rusty black suit, like a lawyer's clerk, as indeed he was.
"All over now, Mr. Skettle," said the landlord, with a little cough. "I wonder--ahem--who'll be the next squire?"
The old clerk peered out from under his hairless brows, and shook his head with a dry smile; it was a very fair imitation of his master's, Mr. Hudsley's, manner, and never failed to impress the company at the "Bush."
"Aha!" he breathed. "Hem--yes. Time will prove--time will prove, Jobson."
Jobson, the landlord, looked round and winked with impressive admiration, as much as to say, "Deep fellow, Skettle; knows all about it, mind you, but not a word!"