“That’s as it may prove,” said Gideon, coldly. “What is your business?”
“It is of a nature which, I think, had better be stated in a more convenient spot. Will you kindly permit me to enter your cottage and rest?”
Gideon looked searchingly into Stephen’s face for a moment that seemed an age to Una, then nodded curtly, and said: “Follow me.”
“Will you not ride?” asked Stephen, suavely.
But Gideon shook his head, and shouldering his ax, strode in front of the horse, and Stephen motioning to the driver, the carriage followed.
“A charming spot, Mr. Rolfe—charming! Rather shall I say, retired, if not solitary, however.”
“Say what you please, sir,” retorted Gideon, grimly and calmly. “I am waiting to learn the business you have with me.”
“Mother,” he said—“this lady is my mother, Mr. Rolfe—I think, I really think you would find it pleasant and refreshing on the bench which I observed outside the door.”
With a little deprecatory air the lady got up and instantly left the cottage.
Then Stephen’s manner changed. Leaning forward he fixed his gray eyes on Gideon Rolfe’s stern face and said: