Dale pushed his way up the steps almost into the hall, acting
consternation and grief--the honest, rather rough country fellow, the
loyal dependent who forgets his good manners in his sorrow at the
death of the chieftain. He would not go away, when the other callers
had departed. He told the butler of the services rendered to him by
Mr. Barradine. "Not more'n ten days ago."
"Don't you remember me? I came here to thank him for his kindness."
"Ah, yes," said the agitated butler, "he was a kind gentleman, and no
mistake."
"_Kind!_ I should think he was. Well, well!" And Dale stood nodding
his head dolefully. Then he went away slowly and sadly, and he kept on
nodding his head in the same doleful manner long after the door was
shut--just on the chance that the servants might look out of the hail
windows and see it before he vanished round the corner.
He could think now, as well as he had ever done. It was of prime
importance that no outsiders should ever learn that Everard Barradine
had injured him. This guided him henceforth. It settled the course of
his life there and then. He must return to Mavis; he must by his
demeanor cover the intrigue--or so act that if people came to know of
it, they would suppose either that he was ignorant of his shame or
that he was a complaisant husband, taking advantage of the situation
and pocketing all gifts from his wife's protector.
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