There were times, of course, when this sensation of insecurity was more strong than at others; he never felt safe when Emmeline was left alone with anybody but one of his own creatures; and there was something in the character and demeanour of Smeaton which made him feel that he might be very dangerous to dishonest purposes, if he had a knowledge of them. He quieted himself, however, in some degree, by a belief in his ignorance. He said to himself-- "It is evident he knows nothing of these people, except by hear-say. Moreover, he cannot suspect anything from what he has seen here. He beholds nothing but kindness and affection. I treat her as a daughter, a beloved daughter. No, no, he can suspect nothing. Yet I have seen a light come up into his eyes when he looks upon her, a bland fond smile upon his lip, which is strange for so short an acquaintance. It is natural, perhaps; for she is certainly very pretty; but he is married, so there can be no harm. Yet suppose his wife were to die? Well then, I must shut my gates against him. That is all. He cannot force his way in, unless I choose to let him. Perhaps I may make something of this Keanton property, if one could but get him to entangle himself a little more against the government. He would be glad enough to take a small sum from a friend for that which was likely to be forfeited to the crown. It is a fine estate, full three thousand a-year, and carries, if I mistake not, the barony with it. These troubles must be productive of good, if one knew how to take advantage of them."