"I Grant! I take a wife! That is anything but a sensible speech of yours, and requires a great deal of thought."
"Well, Sir, I dare say when your time comes, you'll get one as'll suit you, as Mrs. Marks suits her husband, he'd be nothing without her, and though he brags and bullies about awful behind her back, he's like a tame cat afore her. To every word he gives, she lets fly more than a dozen. It's my belief she'd talk any man dumb in half an hour."
"A pleasant life for Marks, upon my soul! I no longer wonder he frequents the public house."
"He don't go there often, Sir, don't think it. No, he most allays manages to go on the sly, and it ain't so easy to 'scape her eyes. Sometimes when he thinks she's safe at the wash-tub, he sneaks off; but he darn't for the life of him go on if he hears her voice calling out after him behind. Then he's forced to turn tail, and go back home with it 'tween his legs, with scarce even a growl. But it 'grees with him, he don't get so very thin; most others would be worn to skin and bone afore this. And now I'm in sight of the cottage, sir, so I needn't trouble you to come any further, and I'm much beholden to you, Sir, for coming so far."
But Charles Linchmore saw him safe to the door, then turned his horse's head once more towards the Hall.
This time he had not long to wait at the Turnpike Gate. It was swung open by a tall, bony, masculine looking woman,—apparently quite a match for the thin, spare Pikeman—who wished him good night in a loud, shrill voice.
"Mrs. Marks," thought Charles. "Her voice sounds hoarse, as though she had been pitching into that unfortunate husband of hers pretty considerably. I hope there's no second Mrs. M. to be had, or reserved for me, as Grant half hinted, in some snug corner."
As he entered the Lodge gate, he wondered if Miss Neville had joined the guests at dinner; who had taken her in, sat next her, and talked to her; and whether he should find her the centre of an admiring circle, or flirting in some "snuggery," or on the "causeuse," where he had had such a desperate flirtation with his cousin, Frances Strickland, only a year ago.
But he had scarcely taken half-a-dozen steps in the Hall, before he saw her standing at the further end, by the large roaring Christmas fire.