"Mr. Tom Thornton, if you think you can scare me with any bugbears, you are mistaken. I know you better than you think I do." "What do you know?" demanded he, surprised out of his malignity by my remark. "What I know I keep to myself. When you go back to Mrs. Loraine, I wish you would tell her from me that it won't sound well when it is told she kept that poor girl shut up in her room for a week or ten days, with the blinds nailed so that she could not open them, just because she took long stitches, or trod on a flower. If I were in your place I shouldn't like to marry a woman like that." Tom looked uneasy, and played with his watch chain. I thought he wanted to say something conciliatory; that he desired to extend to me the olive branch of peace, the better to get me into his power. I was quite willing to listen to any overtures of this kind, for I wanted to return to the cottage, obtain the will and the money, and then bid a final adieu to Parkville until I had solved the problem of my existence. I was fearfully anxious lest my uncle should discover the loss of the valuable document I had taken, and it should be found where I had concealed it. "Ernest, you are getting yourself into trouble," said Tom, after a while, in milder tones than he had yet used. "For which, no doubt, you are very sorry," I added. "I'm sure I don't want to quarrel with you." "You have been very mild and gentle to me." "Well, I was mad, Ernest," said he, with something like a smile. "If you will tell me where my horse is, we will call it all square." "I told uncle Amos where he is. I left him down in Welch's Lane." "Where is that?" "Your father knows where it is. His horse is harnessed, and he will drive you down there," I replied, hoping they would adopt my plan, and thus enable me to enter my chamber and reclaim the valuables I had left there. "Very well; I will do so. I will help you put the plank across the brook before I go," he replied. "No, I thank you. I can put it across myself when I get ready to do so," I answered, cautiously. "What are you afraid of?" "I'm not afraid of anything; but I'm not going to put my head in the wildcat's mouth." "I won't touch you." "I don't intend you shall. Go and get your horse, and I will take care of myself." "Well, I will." He turned, and walked up the path towards the cottage. Of course I had no faith in his word, and I determined to keep at a respectful distance from him. When he had disappeared in the grove beyond the brook, I raised the plank on one end, and then dropped it across the stream, restoring the bridge to its original position. I crossed the brook, and walked towards the house. When I came in sight of it, the buggy was leaving the yard. I concluded Tom and his father had really adopted my suggestion, and were going to Welch's Lane for the horse and chaise. But I was too wary to advance without reconnoitring the ground.