ld. The devil
came first the brandy's secondary. I was quiet so long. I thought myself
a safe man."

He sat down and sent his hair distraught with an effort at smoothing it.

"Women brought the devil into the world first. It's women who raise the
devil in us, and why they--"

He thumped the table just as his aunt Anne was preparing to spread the
cloth.

"Don't be frightened, woman," said Jonathan, seeing her start fearfully
back. "You take too many cups of tea, morning and night--hang the
stuff!"

"Never, never till now have you abused me, Jonathan," she whimpered,
severely.

"I don't tell you to love him; but wait on him. That's all. And I'll
about my business. Land and beasts--they answer to you."

Robert looked up.

"Land and beasts! They sound like blessed things. When next I go to
church, I shall know what old Adam felt. Go along, sir. I shall break
nothing in the house."

"You won't go, Jonathan?" begged the trembling spinster.

"Give him some of your tea, and strong, and as much of it as he can
take--he wants bringing down," was Jonathan's answer; and casting a
glance at one of the framed letters, he strode through the doorway,
and Aunt Anne was alone with the flushed face and hurried eyes of her
nephew, who was to her little better than a demon in the flesh. But
there was a Bible in the room.

An hour later, Robert was mounted and riding to the meet of hounds.

CHAPTER XVIII

A single night at the Pilot Inn had given life and vigour to Robert's
old reputation in Warbeach village, as the stoutest of drinkers and dear
rascals throughout a sailor-breeding district, where Dibdin was still
thundered in the ale-house, and manhood in a great degree measured by
the capacity to take liquor on board, as a ship takes ballast. There was
a profound affectation of deploring the sad fact that he drank as hard
as ever, among the men, and genuine pity expressed for him by the women
of Warbeach; but his fame was fresh again. As the Spring brings back
its flowers, Robert's presence revived his youthful deeds. There had
not been a boxer in the neighbourhood like Robert Eccles, nor such
a champion in all games, nor, when he set himself to it, such an
invincible drinker. It was he who thrashed the brute, Nic Sedgett, for
stabbing with his clasp-knife Harry Boulby, son of the landlady of the
Pilot Inn; thrashed him publicly, to the comfort of all Warbeach. He had
rescued old Dame Garble from her burning cottage