They crossed the square and turned up the first street to the left. "This will be a terrible shock to your daughter," said he, breaking a long silence.
"She will survive it," replied Rachel Gwyn sententiously.
He laid his hand on her arm. "Will you accept a bit of advice from me?"
They stopped. "I am not above listening to it," she replied.
"My advice is to postpone this action until you are sure of one thing."
"And what may that be?"
"Kenneth Gwynne's safe return from this foray against the Indians. He may not come back alive."
"He will come back alive," said she, in a cool, matter-of-fact tone. "It is so ordained. I know. Come, we are wasting time. I have much to do between now and nightfall. Bright and early to-morrow morning my daughter and I are leaving town."
"Leaving town?" he cried, astonished.
"I am taking her out in the country,—to the farm. If I can prevent it she shall never put foot in this town again. You know Phineas Striker? An honest, loyal man, with a wife as good as gold. When Kenneth Gwynne marches back to town again he will find me here to greet him. I will tell him where to find Viola. Out at Striker's farm, my friend, she will be waiting for him to come and claim his own."