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Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. After debating with himself whether he should further seek an interview, which, though, now in his power, was so sedulously shunned by the other party, he decided in the negative; and contenting himself with writing upon a slip of paper the hasty words,—"You are known by the villagers,—be upon your guard,"—he gave it to the ostler, with instructions to deliver it instantly to the owner of the horse he pointed out, and pursued his course. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. “Who killed her husband?” “Go and nurse him, missus!” “Murderess!” Anna looked from left to right.
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