rain. Cunning indeed the man could be,
for his short ends; but his shrewdness began and ended in a trick of
talking, and in the conduct of life he trimmed sail to his appetites.

His business of missioner (or, as he jocosely put it, Chaplain of the
Fleet) soon brought him to the notice of Captain Vyell, Collector of
Customs, with whom by the same trick of speech (slightly adapted) he
managed to ingratiate himself, scenting the flesh-pots. For he belonged
to the tribe to whom a patron never comes amiss. Captain Vyell was
amused by the man; knew him for a sycophant; but tolerated him at table
and promoted him (in Batty Langton's phrase) to be his trencher
chaplain. He and Langton took an easy malicious delight, over their
wine, in shocking Mr. Silk with their free thought and seeing how
"the dog swallowed it."

The dog swallowed his dirty puddings very cleverly, and with just so
much show of protest as he felt to be due to his Orders. He had the
accent of an English gentleman and enough of the manner to pass muster.
But the Collector erred when he said that "Silk was only a beast in his
cups," and he erred with a carelessness well-nigh wicked when he made
the man Dicky's tutor.

This step had coincided with the relegation of Ruth and Miss Quiney to
Sabines; but whether by chance or of purpose no one but the Collector
could tell. Of his intentions toward the girl he said nothing, even to
Batty Langton. Very likely they were not clear to himself. He knew
well enough how fast and far gossip travelled in New England; and
doubted not at all that his adventure at Port Nassau had within a few
days been whispered and canvassed throughout Boston. His own grooms, no
doubt, had talked. But he could take a scornful amusement in baffling
speculation while he made up his own mind. In one particular only he
had been prompt--in propitiating Miss Quiney. On reaching home, some
hours ahead of the girl, he had summoned Miss Quiney to his library and
told her the whole story. The interview on her part had been
exclamatory and tearful; but the good lady, with all her absurdities,
was a Christian. She was a woman too, and delighted to serve an
overmastering will. She had left him with a promise to lay her
conscience in prayer before the Lord; and, next morning, Ruth's beauty
had done the rest.

"Good-morning, Miss Josselin!" Ruth started and glanced up the slope
with a shiver. The voice of Mr. Silk always curdled her fle