Kingswell blushed uncomfortably and wished that D'Antons, with his polite, superior, inscrutable smile, was a thousand miles out of sight of his embarrassment. The girl leaned toward him. But she did not look at him. "God bless you—my fellow countryman," she whispered, in a voice so low that he alone caught the words. He had no answer to make to that unexpected reward. For a little they maintained a painful silence. It was broken by the Frenchman.
"You understand, Master Kingswell, that, for certain reasons, it is advisable that the place of Sir Ralph Westleigh's retreat be kept from the knowledge of every one save ourselves," he said, slowly and easily.
"I understand," replied Kingswell, shortly. Captain d'Antons jarred on him, despite all his faultless and affable manners.
CHAPTER XI. THE SETTING-IN OF WINTER
About mid-afternoon of the day of Kingswell's advent into the settlement on Gray Goose River—Fort Beatrix it was called—the sky clouded, the voice of the river thinned and saddened, and snow began to fall. By Trigget's advice—and Trigget seemed to be the working head of the plantation—the pelts and gear of the Pelican were removed to the storehouse.
"Ye must winter in Newfoundland, sir, however the idea affects your plans, for no more ships will be sailing home this season; and ye couldn't make it in your bully," said the hospitable skipper.
"We might work 'round to St. John's," replied Kingswell.
Trigget shook his head. "This be the safer place o' the two," he answered, "and your Honour's company here will help keep Sir Ralph out o' his black moods. He wants ye to stay, I know. There'll be work and to spare for your men, what with cuttin' fuel, and huntin' game, and boat-buildin'."