unknown power. What deep-laid plans
might he not form to possess himself of Rosey, of which he, Abner Nott,
would be ignorant? Unchecked by the restraint of a father's roof he
would now give full license to his power. "Said he'd take his Honor
with him," muttered Abner to himself in the dim watches of the night;
"lookin' at that sayin' in its right light, it looks bad."

V

The elaborately untruthful account which Mr. Nott gave his daughter of
de Ferrieres's sudden departure was more fortunate than his usual
equivocations. While it disappointed and slightly mortified her, it
did not seem to her inconsistent with what she already knew of him.
"Said his doctor had ordered him to quit town under an hour, owing to a
comin' attack of hay fever, and he had a friend from furrin parts
waitin' him at the Springs, Rosey," explained Nott, hesitating between
his desire to avoid his daughter's eyes and his wish to observe her
countenance.

"Was he worse?--I mean did he look badly, father?" inquired Rosey
thoughtfully.

"I reckon not exackly bad. Kinder looked ez if he mout be worse soon
ef he didn't hump hisself."

"Did you see him?--in his room?" asked Rosey anxiously. Upon the
answer to this simple question depended the future confidential
relations of father and daughter. If her father had himself detected
the means by which his lodger existed, she felt that her own
obligations to secrecy had been removed. But Mr. Nott's answer
disposed of this vain hope. It was a response after his usual fashion
to the question he IMAGINED she artfully wished to ask, i. e. if he had
discovered their rendezvous of the previous night. This it was part of
his peculiar delicacy to ignore. Yet his reply showed that he had been
unconscious of the one miserable secret that he might have read easily.

"I was there an hour or so--him and me alone--discussin' trade. I
reckon he's got a good thing outer that curled horse hair, for I see
he's got in an invoice o' cushions. I've stored 'em all in the forrard
bulkhead until he sends for 'em, ez Mr. Renshaw hez taken the loft."

But although Mr. Renshaw had taken the loft, he did not seem in haste
to occupy it. He spent part of the morning in uneasily pacing his
room, in occasional sallies into the street from which he purposelessly
returned, and once or twice in distant and furtive contemplation of
Rosey at work in the galley. This last observation was not unnoticed
by the astute No