about the place? Yes, miss, they were all here except two, and one of
those is a fool, the other a knave."

"Can't I know the fool?" she asked, eagerly.

"I rejoice to find them so rare in your experience!" he retorted. "This
one is out of town, though I have no doubt you will see him sufficiently
often when be returns. His name is Crailey Gray, and he is to marry
Fanchon Bareaud--if he remembers!"

"And the knave?"

"Is one!" Carewe shut his teeth with a venomous snap, and his whole face
reddened suddenly. "I'll mention this fellow once--now," he said,
speaking each word with emphasis. "His name is Vanrevel. You see that
gate; you see the line of my property there: the man himself, as well as
every other person in the town, remembers well that the last time I spoke
to him, it was to tell him that if he ever set foot on ground of mine I'd
shoot him down, and he knows, and they all know, I shall keep my word!
Elsewhere, I told him that for the sake of public peace, I should ignore
him. I do. You will see him everywhere; but it will not be difficult; no
one will have the hardihood to present him to my daughter. The quarrel
between us--" Mr. Carewe broke off for a moment, his hands clinching the
arms of his chair, while he swallowed with difficulty, as though he choked
upon some acrid bolus, and he was so strongly agitated by his own mention
of his enemy that he controlled himself by a painful effort of his will.
"The quarrel between us is political--and personal. You will remember."

"I shall remember," she answered in a rather frightened voice.