“Thanks, but I don’t seem to have any appetite.”
The squire did not choose to explain himself further, although he inferred from Miss Chain’s demeanour that she, to some extent, shared Edith’s fears.
Soon after Doctor Peters arrived, and before he could be stopped, he blurted out that he “had news in more ways than one, and had just had a message from a friend who lived near Newhaven to say that a balloon, reported to have ascended from Wedwell Park, failed to effect a landing near the South Coast, and had been driven out to sea.”
“I, for one,” cried the squire, with great vehemence, “am not in the least alarmed by what you state, Peters, though I do not thank you for offering this intelligence to my daughter instead of to me, as it savours of the pessimism which is your ruling complaint, and I don’t believe a word of it, and can assure you that I have thorough confidence in the aeronaut’s skill and feel assured of his safety.”
“That is all very well, squire, if the balloon has sustained no injury.”
“I insist upon it, Peters, that just now, in my daughter’s presence you keep your croaking tongue within your teeth, and if you in any way further espouse Falcon’s cause, or anyone belonging to him, I shall hold you guilty of being connected with him in some way or other.”
“Hold me guilty, squire! why, I am now quite on another tack, being in possession of fresh information.”
“You may or may not be, but if I thought you had in any way communicated with him since he has proved himself a villain, I would, notwithstanding my position, turn you out of the house!”
“Stop, stop, squire. A threat to commit a breach of the peace from a magistrate—that is too dreadful to think about.”
“Is it? Well, you had better take yourself off with your forebodings of evil. You would raise the blood of a saint.”