run aground."

"Be silent, you croaking raven," shouted the Broom-Squire. "If you
think to mock me, you are wrong. I know well enough what I am about.
As for that painting chap, he is gone--gone to Guildford."

"How do you know that?"

"Because the landlady said as much."

"What--to you?"

"Yes, to me."

Mrs. Rocliffe laughed mockingly.

"Oh, Bideabout," she said, "did not that open your eyes? What did
Sanna Verstage mean when she asked you to allow your wife to go to
the inn! What did she mean but this?" she mimicked the mistress,
"'Please, Master Bideabout, may Matabel come to me for a day or
two--that naughty boy of mine is away now. So don't be frightened.
I know very well that if he were at the Ship you might hesitate to
send Matabel there.'" Then in her own tones Sarah Rocliffe said.
"That is the meaning of it. But I don't believe that he is gone."

"Sanna Verstage don't tell lies."

"If he were gone, Matabel would not be so keen to go there."

"Matabel was not keen. She did not wish to go."

"She did wish it; but she made a pretence before you that she did
not."

"Hold your slanderous tongue," shouted Jonas. "I'll not hear another
word."

"Then you must shut your ears to what all the parish is saying."

Thereupon she told him what she had seen, with amplifications of
her own. She was glad to have the opportunity of angering or
wounding her brother; of sowing discord between him and his wife.

When he parted from her, she cast after him the remark--"I believe
he is still at the Ship."

In a mood the reverse of cheerful, angry with Mehetabel, raging
against Iver, cursing himself, and overflowing with spite against
his sister Jonas went to the Moor in quest of the strayed deer. He
knew very well that his sister bore Mehetabel a grudge; he was
sufficiently acquainted with her rancorous humor and unscrupulous
tongue to know that what she said was not to be relied on, yet
discount as he might what she had told him, he was assured that a
substratum of truth lay at the bottom.

Before entering the morass Jonas halted, and leaning on his gun,
considered whether he should not go to the tavern, reclaim his
wife and reconduct her home, instead of going after game. But he
thought that such a proceeding might be animadverted upon; he
relied upon Mrs. Verstage's words, that Iver was departing to his
professional work, and he was eager to secure the game for himself.

Accordingly he directed his course