It was characteristic of the man that in the course of his reflections it never once crossed his mind that his policy had been mistaken. Far-sighted as he thought himself, he was incapable of understanding how the loyalty of a woman like Nancy would have kept her from abusing her husband’s confidences, if they had been offered her, however distasteful his projects might have been to her judgment and heart. He was naturally secretive and distrustful; and like all men who scheme only for themselves, suspicious of everybody. His cleverness was cunning; there was always the danger that he might over-reach himself—in the common expression he was “too clever by half.” His greatest fault was precipitancy; he had to struggle hard against the temptation to stand beside the snares he set in order that he might see the prey enter. The Wise Man asserts that “he that maketh haste to be rich shall not be unpunished.” He might have added that the punishment was likely to be self-administered; a man cannot spur himself fiercely and constantly and escape wounds! Inman’s success so far had been quick and gratifying, but he was not satisfied, and the greatest obstacles in the path of his contentment were the Drakes—father and son. The old man he disliked not because he was a competitor (for competition was in the nature of things and not to be avoided), but because of his air of cheerful assurance, because of his frank, fearless eye and the reproach of his unfailing goodwill. The younger he hated, and with just cause (as he thought) on account of his continued intimacy with Nancy. That a single kiss had been the extent of their illicit connection his prurient mind rejected as incredible; and he was like the rest of his kind in regarding as unpardonable in the wife what was venial in the husband. His mind had been undecided, and therefore he had locked Nancy in her bedroom, just as he might have locked a dangerous weapon in a drawer—to keep her from doing any mischief until the opportunity should have passed. There remained Keturah. Despite her tearful peevishness there was a grain of obstinacy in the woman’s nature which made her hardly manageable, and might prove awkward if Nancy should gain her ear and sympathies. His quick judgment decided that she must be got out of the way for a day or two; and when the morning post brought her a letter that opened the floodgates wide he became inwardly elated. “This is what Maniwel would call an answer to prayer,” he said to himself. “My luck’s changed, I shall go on all right now.” To Keturah he turned a gloomy face. “Ill, is she? And what’s Nancy to do if you go traipsing off to nurse another woman?” “I wouldn’t ha’ cared,” wailed Keturah, “if there’d been anyone near-hand to do for her; but to be on her back and not a soul i’ t’ house if her girds come on——! It caps me what’s ta’en Nancy. She was right enough when she went to bed.”