"I have thought much of what you related to me last night," continued my father, "and I have concluded that you have forgotten to speak to me of many matters."
In this my father spoke truly, for although I had spoken freely concerning my interview with old Solomon, I had said but little concerning the woman whose fate had become of so much interest. Why I had refrained from doing this I knew not, yet so it was.
"I have told you all I know concerning the thing I went to seek," I replied.
"Ay, that is so, Roland, and thou hast never told me a lie. But I am convinced of this: That old man never intended thee to die in that cavern."
"No," I replied. "What is your reason for believing that?"
"I have many reasons."
"Then why did he leave me?"
"To return after you had fasted two or three days, and when your strength would be so gone that he would be able to make his own terms with you."
I had not thought of this before, and I wondered at my dullness, for there was sense in my father's surmise, and I fancied there might be truth in it.
"I see gay doings ahead," said my father presently.