"I have trusted you fully, young man," said the other, stopping before him, "not only because you cannot betray me if you would, seeing that not one scrap of writing exists to inculpate me in this matter, and that your word would scarce be taken before mine, but because I believe you to be trustworthy. I believe also"—graciously—"that Robert Godwyn (whose death I sincerely mourn) showed his usual wisdom and knowledge of mankind when he chose you as his confidant and co-worker. I wish you well through with a dangerous and delicate piece of work and in enjoyment of your reward, namely, your freedom, and the esteem of the Commonwealth of Virginia. I will myself see to it that any past offenses which you are supposed to have committed (for myself, I believe you to have been harshly used), shall not stand in your light." "Major Carrington is very good," said Landless, calmly. "I shall study to deserve his commendation." The other took a restless turn or two through the room, stopping at length before the younger man. "You may tell me one thing," he said in a voice scarcely above a whisper, and with his eyes bent watchfully upon the other’s composed face. "Had Godwyn set the day?" "Yes." "And you will adhere to it?" "Yes." "What day?" "The thirteenth of September." "Humph! Two weeks off! Well, my tobacco will be largely in, and I shall send my daughter upon a visit to her Huguenot kindred upon the Potomac. Good night." "Good night," answered Landless. *CHAPTER XV* *THE WATERS OF CHESAPEAKE* Patricia was ennuyée to the last degree. That morning Sir Charles had ridden to Green Spring with her father; Mistress Lettice was in the still room decocting a face wash from rose leaves, dew and honey; young Shaw on his knees in the master’s room, disconsolately poring over piles of musty papers in search of a misplaced deed which the colonel had ordered him to find against his return. It was a hot and listless afternoon. Patricia read a page of "The Rival Ladies," tried her spinet, had a languid romp with her spaniels, and finally sauntered into the porch, and leaning her white arms upon the railing, looked towards the dazzling blue waters of the Chesapeake. Presently an idea came to her. She went swiftly into the hall, and called for Darkeih. When that handmaiden appeared:— "Darkeih, go down to the quarters, and tell the first man you meet to find Woodson, and send him to me." Darkeih departed, and in half an hour’s time the overseer appeared at the foot of the porch steps, red and heated from his rapid walk from the Three-Mile field. "What’s wrong, Mistress Patricia?" he asked quickly. Patricia opened her lovely eyes. "Nothing is wrong, Woodson. What should be? I sent for you, because I want to go to Rosemead." "To Rosemead!" exclaimed the overseer. "Yes, to Rosemead, and I want a couple of men to take me."