"I advise you," said Pence, and his voice sounded strangely in his own ears, "not to tell your brother that his daughter is engaged to Mr. Lister." "I never said that she was. But----" "There is no but. The mere mention of such an engagement would send Captain Huxham crazy." "In heaven's name, why?" gasped Mrs. Coppersley, looking the picture of stout amazement and sitting down heavily. "Because for some reason he hates Mr. Lister, and would kill him rather than accept him as his son-in-law." Mrs. Coppersley's florid face turned quite pale. Evidently she knew what her brother was like when roused. "Why should Jabez hate Mr. Lister?" she asked. "You had better ask him," said Pence, opening the hall door; then to soften his abruptness he added, "I'll tell Henry Vand that you will see him." After which he departed, leaving Mrs. Coppersley still pale and still gasping. After all there was no reason why the ship steward's widow would not marry the young man. Vand was handsome in a refined way, and very clever as a musician. He was only slightly crippled, too, and could get about with the aid of a stick. All the same, he needed someone to look after him, and as his own mother did not do so--as was notorious--why should he not become Mrs. Coppersley's husband? The disparity in age did not matter, as Vand, in spite of his good looks, was club-footed and poor. But Pence doubted if Mrs. Coppersley would inherit Bleacres after Captain Huxham's death, in spite of the arrangement between them. Unless--and here was the chance for the housekeeper--unless Bella married Lister, notwithstanding her father's opposition. In that event, Huxham would assuredly disinherit her. "I'll point this out to her," said the preacher, as he left the manor-house, "and urge my suit. Common-sense will make her yield to my prayers. Moreover, I can plead, and----" here he smiled complacently as he thought of his pulpit eloquence. Besides, the unaccustomed spirit of the rum was still keeping him brave. Pence sauntered in the glowing sunshine down the narrow path which ran between the standing corn. The path was not straight. It wound deviously, as though Huxham wished to make the approach to his abode as difficult as possible. Indeed, it was strange that he should sow corn at all, since corn at the time was not remunerative. But every year since he had entered into possession of Bleacres the owner had sown corn, and every year there had only been the one meandering path through the same, the very path which Pence was now taking. There was evidently some purpose in this sowing, and in the fact that only one pathway was left whereby to approach the mansion. But what that purpose might be, neither Pence, nor indeed anyone else, could guess. Not that they gave it a thought. Huxham was presumed to be very wealthy, and his farming was looked upon more as a hobby than a necessity.