Norton had ridden down to Belle Plain ostensibly to view certain
of those improvements that went so far toward embittering Tom
Ware's existence. Gossip had it that he kept the road hot
between the two places, and this was an added strain on the
planter. But Norton did not go to Belle Plain to see Mr. Ware.
If that gentleman had been the sole attraction, he would have
made just one visit suffice; had it preceded his own, he would
have attended Tom's funeral, and considered that he had done a
very decent thing. On the present occasion he and Betty were
strolling about the rehabilitated grounds, and Norton was
exhibiting that interest and enthusiasm which Betty always
expected of him.

"You are certainly making the old place look up!" he said, as
they passed out upon the terrace. He had noted casually when he
rode up the lane half an hour before that a horse was tied near
Ware's office; a man now issued from the building and swung
himself into the saddle. Norton turned abruptly to Betty.
"What's that fellow doing here?" he asked.

"I suppose he comes to see Tom," said Betty.

"Is he here often?"

"Every day or so." Betty's tone was indifferent. For reasons
which had seemed good and sufficient she had never discussed
Captain Murrell with Norton.