CHAPTER X.
A POISONED SPRING
"It was the saying of a great man, that if we could trace our descents, we should find all slaves to come from princes and all princes from slaves!"—Seneca.
Early the next morning the two adventurers took their departure.
The jovial quack lavished his good-byes upon the landlord and the "riff-raff" who gathered to welcome the coming or speed the parting guest at the door of the country tavern. He drove a pair of beautiful, spirited horses, and had the satisfaction of knowing that he excited the envy of every beholder, as he took the ribbons in his hand, swung out his long whip and started.
If her husband's heart was swelling with pride, Pepeeta's was bursting with anxiety. An instinct which she did not understand had prevented her from telling the doctor of her interview with the Quaker. Long before the farmhouse came in sight she began to scan the landscape for the figure which had been so vividly impressed upon her mind.
The swift horses, well fed and well groomed, whirled the light wagon along the road at a rapid pace and as they passed the humble home of the Quaker, Pepeeta saw a little child driving the cows down the long lane, and a woman moving quietly among the flowers in the garden; but David himself was not to be seen.
"He has gone," she said to herself joyously.
On through the beech grove, around the turn of the road, into full view of the bridge, they sped.
It was empty! And yet it was there that he had agreed to meet them!