erry to Gatcombe and the
snug ingle-corner of the old farmhouse. Such a crowd of thoughts,
hopes, dreads, rushed into his mind that the whirl and jostle of them
in his brain made him giddy. He had left Bristol at dawn; it was now
late afternoon and an April day. He had entered the "Berkeley Arms" in
the old feudal town, called for his ale, and been stared at by an old
crony, yet never recognized. A year of absence, danger, privation,
slavery had put five years at least on to the young yeoman's back. The
laughter had gone out of his eyes, the roundness out of his cheeks, and
his walk was stiff.

He hailed the ferryman. The man came slowly across from Gatcombe.
Johnnie recognized his stroke before he clearly detected the body from
the boat. Here was the real touch of home. Old Evan would stare at
him, doubtless, but only for a moment. Then would come the
affectionate cry, "Plague take me! if it b'aint Jack Morgan. Welcome
home, my son; we'd given thee up for dead!"

The ferryman came; his fare stepped in. The ferryman stared not once
nor twice, but apparently he gave up the puzzle that troubled his mind,
for he took the ha'penny fare with no other remark than that the day
had been very warm for the time o' year. Johnnie went up the hill
feeling very depressed. On a sudden impulse he turned aside from the
highroad and took the path by the river through the fields to his own
lands. He felt he could not bear another familiar face to look into
his and not give him an old-time affectionate greeting. He tried to
persuade himself that the light was getting weak, but looking around he
could distinguish small objects on the other side of the river, and he
recognized old Biddy Gale coming down to the well at the bottom of her
garden to draw water.

The red roofs of Blakeney showed up against the dark background of the
trees. He looked for his own house. No smoke curled from the
chimneys. His heart seemed suddenly to turn to a lump of lead. An
urchin was coming along the path; he determined to talk to him.

The boy came whistling along, spied the tall, gaunt, bearded stranger,
and ceased his piping. When Johnnie turned towards him he made as
though to bolt, but thought better of it and came on.

"Is yonder place Blakeney?" asked the young man.

"It is," was the reply.

"Doth one Master John Morgan live there?"

"A-did in the time past, good master; but, preserve us from evil! the
Spaniards roasted and e