The whispers as to his treason to the cause of the ‘Union,’ which floated about, and of which he was perfectly conscious, had no other effect upon him than to make him labour with increased zeal. But he smarted inwardly; for, like all popular leaders, he felt keenly the signs of waning favour amongst his followers—felt them the more keenly because he had so often, to his own serious detriment, proved his integrity, and knew that he was faithful as ever to the cause he had espoused. It is doubtful if he would have been able to hold up so stoutly against the swelling tide of unpopularity, if there had not been a compensating influence upon him, strengthening his arm, although it did not always keep his head cool, or his pulse steady. Every morning, when the white mist was rising from the hollows, and the trees appeared through it like shadows of themselves, whilst the long grass through which he tramped to the field sparkled and glowed around him, as the sun cleared the atmosphere, his way took him by the gardener’s cottage. Every evening, when the harvest-moon was rising slowly over the tree-tops, his way homeward took him again by the cottage. He frequently caught a glimpse of Pansy, and generally had an opportunity of exchanging greetings with her. ‘A fine morning,’ he would say; and he was under the impression that he spoke with a smile, but always looked as solemn as if he were at a funeral. ‘Yes, a fine morning,’ she would say with a real smile, and a tint on her cheeks as if they reflected the radiance of the sun. Then he would stand as if he had something more to say; but first he had to look up at the sky; next strain his eyes over the rolling-ground in the direction of the Forest, as if much depended upon his noting the development of the trees through the mist; and again up at the chimney-top, to observe which way the wind was blowing. The result of all this observation being: ‘We’ll have a rare drying wind to-day.’ Then she, in a modified way, would go through the same pantomime and answer pleasantly; ‘Yes, I think you will.’ And he would pass on, leaving that great ‘something’ he wanted to say still unspoken. Yet Caleb was reputed to be a man possessed of a special gift of speech. He showed no lack of it in the presence of any one save Pansy. ‘I wonder what gars him come round this way ilka mornin’ and night,’ said Sam Culver one day to his daughter, looking at her suspiciously. ‘He’d be far sooner hame if he gaed round by the wood, like other folk.’ ‘I cannot tell, father,’ she answered, her gypsy cheeks aglow: ‘maybe he has to go up to the House for something.’ Sam shook his head thoughtfully: he did not relish the idea which had entered it. ‘Kersey is a decent enough lad; but he is wildish in his notions of things, and a’ the farmers round about are feared to trust him with ony work. That’s no the right way to get through the world, my lass, and I wouldna like to see you with sic a man.’