At that she walked back to the kitchen, closed the outer door, started the fire, and put the kettle on to boil, her thoughts all the while busy with their loss and the manner in which the robbery had been effected. She knew no more of it than he did. Phelim had not confided in her, and as yet she had no suspicion of his connection with the band of housebreakers and thieves infesting the valley.
The old man was so full of grief and despair that he could not eat; leaving his breakfast almost untasted, and bidding his wife attend to the outdoor work, which he usually did himself, he mounted his swiftest horse and hastened to the nearest town to see what steps could be taken toward the recovery of his stolen property.
But as before, when committing similar acts of depredation, the wily villains had managed their work so adroitly that no clew to their identity could be found.
Weeks passed on without any new light being thrown upon the matter, and under the grievous trial Mr. Himes grew constantly more morose, captious and niggardly toward his wife, till she declared that life spent alone with him—and she seldom had any other companion—was an intolerable burden.
Then he took to absenting himself frequently, sometimes being gone all day long, never telling her whither he went or on what errand.
At length he announced his intention to sell his place and move into an adjoining State.
“What fer?” Belinda asked, in surprise and dismay. “You couldn’t get a nicer place, and you’ve always bragged on it so. I’d never have thought you’d give it up.”
“There’s nothin’ wrong with the place,” he said, “but there’s too many burglars about. I sha’n’t stay here to be robbed agin soon as I get a little ahead.”
“You’ll stay on here till after harvest, won’t you?”
“I tell you, I’m a goin’ jest as soon’s I kin sell out!” he snapped.