ed to you," the Colonel said patiently, "why I am safe
here."

"For my part, and that's flat, I hate their soft sawder!" the man burst
out. "It's everything to please you while they sharpen the pike to
stick in your back. If old Oliver, that was a countryman of my own, and
bred not so far off, had dealt with a few more of the rogues----"

"Hush!" Colonel John cried sternly. "And, for my sake, keep your tongue
between your teeth. Have done with such talk, or you'll not be safe, go
or stay; Be more prudent, man!"

"It's my belief I'll never see your honour again!" the man cried, with
passion. "That's my belief! That's my belief and you'll not stir it."

"We've parted before in worse hap," Colonel John answered, "and come
together again. And, please God, we'll do the same this time."

The man did not answer, but he shook his head obstinately. For the rest
of the day he clung to his master like a burr, and it was with an
unusual sinking of the heart that Colonel John saw him ride away on the
morrow. With him went Uncle Ulick, the Colonel's other friend in the
house; and certainly the departure of these two seemed unlucky, if it
was nothing worse. But the man who was left behind was not one to give
way to vain fears. He thrust down the rising doubt, and chid himself
for a presentiment that belittled Providence. Perhaps in the depths of
his heart, he welcomed a change, finding cheer in the thought that the
smaller the household at Morristown, the more prominently, and
therefore the more fairly, he must stand in Flavia's view.

Be that as it might, he saw nothing of her on that day or the following
day. But though she shunned him, others did not. He began to remark
that he was seldom alone, even in the house. James and the O'Beirnes
were always at his elbow--watching, watching, watching, it seemed to
him. They said little, and what they said they whispered to one another
in corners; but if he came out of his chamber, he found one in the
passage, and if he mounted to it, one forewent him! This dogging, these
whisperings, this endless watching, would have got on the nerves of a
more timid man; it began to disturb him. He began to fancy that even
Darby and the serving-boys looked askance at him and kept him in view.
Once he took a notion that the butler, who had been friendly within
limits--for the sake of that father who had met his man in Tralee
churchyard--wished to say something to him. But at the critical moment
Morty