He turned away with these words, and, without further speech, made for the door, and darted into the street.
“Ha! ha!” cried Craftall. “’Tis a good deed! ’Tis well done!”
That night he sailed for America.
CHAPTER XI.
It was the eighth hour of the morning before Bernard arrived at Lantwell. Though his horse was jaded, he did not draw up before his own house, but proceeded, at a pretty brisk canter, to the upper end of the village. There, a short distance from the church, he came to a small cottage, similar to his own, before which he reined up, and alighted.
“So ho, there!” he cried, knocking at the door. “Gaffer Peters! So ho!”
“Anon! anon!” cried a voice within.