“Well, how did it happen, then? What’s your account of what happened? Did any one see?”
As neither of the others answered, Morgan said, “Nobody saw it happen.”
Martin leapt on to that. “So it was never explained?”
“No,” said Morgan, “the coroner’s inquest gave Accidental Death.” Martin laughed.
“You’re going now, I suppose?” said Silas, “Morgan’s answered you, and his answer can hardly satisfy you. Suspicion’s a sleepless guest in the mind.”
“You’re alone now, father?” asked the son. His tone altered as a sort of pity and repentance overcame him, and as he remembered his father’s blindness. “Perhaps I spoke too hasty, father; see here, I’ll stop on with you if you like.”
“I don’t like; you can get out,” said Silas. Morgan and Nan gave an exclamation.
“I’ll stop to-night; we’re not calm, either of us.”
“I don’t remember you calm, somehow?” Silas sneered. Martin’s temper, which he had controlled, rose again.
“I’ll get out, then,” he said, moving towards the door. Nan, through her terror, thought him very handsome,—bronze and black, his bony cheeks still glistening from the rain.