encountered an opposition of so much more alarming a character than he
had anticipated, and found his wife not only competent _ferre aspectum_
to endure his maniacal glare and scowl, but serenely to defy his violence
and his wrath. He had abundance of matter for thought and perturbation,
and felt himself, when the images of Larcom, Larkin, and Jim Dutton
crossed the retina of his memory, some thrill of the fear which 'hath
torment'--the fear of a terrible coercion which he liked so well to
practise in the case of others.

In this mood he paced, without minding in what direction he went, under
those great rows of timber which over-arch the pathway leading toward
Redman's Dell--the path that he and Mark Wylder had trod in that misty
moonlight walk on which I had seen them set out together.

Before he had walked five minutes in this direction, he was encountered
by a little girl in a cloak, who stopped and dropped a courtesy. The
captain stopped also, and looked at her with a stare which, I suppose,
had something forbidding in it, for the child was frightened. But the
wild and menacing look was unconscious, and only the reflection of the
dark speculations and passions which were tumbling and breaking in his
soul.

'Well, child,' said he, gently, 'I think I know your face, but I forget
your name.'

'Little Margery, please Sir, from Miss Lake at Redman's Farm,' she
replied with a courtesy.

'Oh! to be sure, yes. And how is Miss Rachel?'