"I was just going over the bridge to Eastport," he explained, "and thought I would drop in for a neighborly chat."
Even in this simple statement he could not put a grain of truth. He had made a special trip to the cottage, and had come solely for his own selfish ends.
Mrs. Corcoran bid him welcome, and offered him a chair.
"I trust you do not let your sorrow rest too deeply upon you, widow," he went on, to Mrs. Nelson. "We all have our trials in this world," and he gave a grunt that was meant for a deep sigh.
"How can I help it, squire?" she replied. "Ralph was all the world to me."
"So was my late wife, widow, and yet I had to give her up;" and again he gave a grunt-like sigh.
This statement did not affect Mrs. Nelson greatly. She knew that it was a fact that the squire and his late wife had quarreled continually, and that many had said he had not cared at all when death had relieved him of her companionship.
"I was wondering what you intended to do," went on the squire, after an awkward pause. "Do you intend to stay here?"
"I do not know yet, squire."
"I should think you would want to change your surroundings. Does not everything in this cottage remind you of your late husband and late son?"