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 that, but sat motionless.

"He'll scarce turn up here, in these wilds," Mr. Riddle repeated, "and
what I am wondering, Sarah, is how the devil we are to live here."

"How do these good people live, who helped us when we were starving?"

Mr. Riddle flung his hand eloquently around the cabin. There was
something of disgust in the gesture.

"You see!" he said, "love in a cottage."

"But it is love," said the lady, in a low tone.

He broke into laughter.

"Sally," he cried, "I have visions of you gracing the board at which we
sat to-day, patting journey-cakes on the hearth, stewing squirrel broth
with the same pride that you once planned a rout. Cleaning the pots and
pans, and standing anxious at the doorway staring through a sunbonnet for
your lord and master."

"My lord and master!" said the lady, and there was so much of scorn in
the words that Mr. Riddle winced.

"Come," he said, "I grant now that you could make pans shine like
pier-glasses, that you could cook bacon to a turn--although I would have
laid an hundred guineas against it some years ago. What then? Are you
to be contented with four log walls? With the intellectual companionship
of the McChesneys and their friends? Are you to depend for excitement
upon the chances of having the hair neatly cut from your head by red
fiends? Come, we'll go back to the Rue St. Dominique, to the suppers and
the card parties of the countess. We'll be rid of regrets for a life
upon which we have turned our backs forever."

She shook her head, sadly.

"It's no use, Harry," said she, "we'll never be rid of regrets."

"We'll never have a barony like Temple Bow, and races every week, and
gentry round about. But, damn it, the Rebels have spoiled all that since
the war."

"Those are not the regrets I mean," answered Mrs. Temple.

"What then, in Heaven's name?" he cried. "You were not wont to be thus.
But now I vow you go beyond me. What then?"

She did not answer, but sat leaning forward over the hearth, he staring
at her in angry pe