u must needs cross the ocean
again, and come to the wilds. We nearly die on the trail, are picked
up by a Samaritan in buckskin and taken into the bosom of his worthy
family. And forsooth, you look at a backwoods urchin, and are nigh to
swooning."

"Hush, Harry," she cried, starting forward and peering into my face; "he
will hear you."

"Tut!" said Harry, "what if he does? London and Paris are words to
him. We might as well be speaking French. And I'll take my oath he's
sleeping."

The corner where I lay was dark, for the cabin had no windows. And if my
life had depended upon speaking, I could have found no fit words then.

She turned from me, and her mood changed swiftly. For she laughed
lightly, musically, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Perchance I am ghost-ridden," she said.

"They are not ghosts of a past happiness, at all events," he answered.

She sat down on a stool before the hearth, and clasping her fingers upon
her knee looked thoughtfully into the embers of the fire. Presently she
began to speak in a low, even voice, he looking down at her, his feet
apart, his hand thrust backward towards the heat.

"Harry," she said, "do you remember all our contrivances? How you used
to hold my hand in the garden under the table, while I talked brazenly
to Mr. Mason? And how jealous Jack Temple used to get?" She laughed
again, softly, always looking at the fire.

"Damnably jealous!" agreed Mr. Riddle, and yawned. "Served him devilish
right for marrying you. And he was a blind fool for five long years."

"Yes, blind," the lady agreed. "How could he have been so blind? How
well I recall the day he rode after us in the woods."

"'Twas the parson told, curse him!" said Mr. Riddle. "We should have
gone that night, if your courage had held."

"My courage!" she cried, flashing a look upwards, "my foresight. A
pretty mess we had made of it without my inheritance. 'Tis small enough,
the Lord knows. In Europe we should have been dregs. We should have
starved in the wilderness with you a-farming."

He looked down at her curiously.

"Devilish queer talk," said he, "but while we are in it, I wonder where
Temple is now. He got aboard the King's frigate with a price on his
head. Williams told me he saw him in London, at White's. Have--have you
ever heard, Sarah?"

She shook her head, her glance returning to the ashes.

"No," she answered.

"Faith," says Mr. Riddle, "he'll scarce turn up here."

She did not answer