“He will make her a very suitable husband,” said Hartwell. “I must confess that I have had my fears for her. She is possessed of such good looks--a dangerous possession for such a young woman, sir. These, coupled with her intimate association with the Squire's daughters, might have led her into danger. A less sensible girl would certainly be likely to set her cap at someone a good deal above her in station--a dangerous thing--very dangerous!” “No doubt, sir. And now you are disposed to think that her happiness is, humanly speaking, assured?” “I think that she is a very fortunate young woman, and that the man is even more fortunate still. Old Polwhele, in his whimsical way, however, protests that he wishes the man whose intent it is to rob him of his daughter, had got drowned. He grumbled about the part you played in the matter--he was very whimsical. 'What, sir,' he grumbled to me just now, 'is Mr. Wesley not content with looking after our souls--is he turning his attention to our bodies as well? Old Polwhele has a nimble wit.” “It was not I, but John bennet, who was fortunate enough to restore the man: he treated him altogether skilfully, the revenue patrol-man told me.” Hartwell threw up his hands in surprise. Then he frowned. He was plainly puzzled for some time. At last he said: “Mr. Wesley, if Bennet saved that man's life he must have stumbled on him while it was yet dark--too dark to let him see the man's face.” “But how should he know who the man was, even if he had seen his face?” “He was acquainted with Mr. Snowdon at Bristol, and his grievance was that if Snowdon had not appeared, the girl would have accepted his own suit. Oh, yes; it must have been too dark for him to see the man's face, or it would have gone hardly with the poor fellow.” There was a considerable pause before Wesley said: “You are right, it was too dark to allow him to recognise the man's features. Has he been seen at the village during the morning?” “If he has I heard nothing of it,” replied Hartwell, “it might be as well to say a word of warning to Mr. Snowdon respecting him; he is a madman, and dangerous. You do not forget the mad thing he said about you on Sunday, sir?” “I have not forgotten it,” said Wesley in a low voice. “I have not forgotten it. I think that I shall set out upon my journey this afternoon.” The pause that he made between his sentences was so slight as to suggest that they were actually connected--that there was some connection between the thing that Bennet had said and his own speedy departure. His host, who was in good spirits after his walk in the early sunshine, gave a laugh and asked him in no spirit of gravity if he felt that it was necessary for him to fly lest Captain Snowdon should develop the same spirit of jealousy that had made Bennet fit for Bedlam. Wesley shook his head and smiled.