In fact that which had attracted her attention and somewhat alarmed her, was one of the patches of water formed in the marshy bottom of the Punch-Bowl by the water that oozes forth in many springs from under the sandstone.
The track now passed under trees.
A glimpse of dull orange light, and old Clutch halted, unbidden.
"Here we be, we two," said Jonas. "This is home. And Paradise, if you will."
CHAPTER XIV.
NOT PARADISE.
At the moment that the cart halted, a black dog burst out of the house door, and flew at Mehetabel as she attempted to descend.
"Ha, Tartar!" laughed Jonas. "The rascal seems to know his reign is over. Go back, Tartar. I'll thrash you till the favor off my whip is beat into your hide, if you don't be quiet. Hitherto he has guarded my house, when I have been from home. Now that will be your duty, Matabel. Can't keep a wife and a dog. 'Twould be too extravagant. Tartar! Down! This is your mistress—till I get rid of you."
The dog withdrew reluctantly, continuing to growl and to show his fangs at Mehetabel.
In the doorway stood Sally Rocliffe, the sister of Jonas. Though not so openly resentful of the intrusion as was Tartar, she viewed the bride with ill-disguised bad humor; indeed, without an affectation of cordiality.