John looked up from the letter. "Oh, that is funny! It begins, 'Respectable Sir.'"
"My dear John, that isn't funny at all--it's old-fashioned. I have seen a letter from the great Dr. Rush in which the mother of Washington is mentioned as 'that respectable lady.' But now, sir, you will be good enough to let me hear that letter without your valuable comments."
The tone was impatient. John said, "Excuse me, uncle, but I couldn't help it."
"I am driven away again. I write this to thank you for all you done for me at Westways. Mr. Grey he met me here on the beach and I'm afraid--I don't take no chances. I saved money here. I can get on anywhere. It's awful to have to ran away, and that drunkard Peter Lamb all the while safe with his mother. I can't get him out of my mind. I'm a Christian man--and I tried to forgive him. I can't do it. If I am quiet and let alone, I forget. I've got to get up and go and hide, and I curse him that done it. Please, sir, not tell Mr. Rivers what I say. I seen Miss Leila. I always said Miss Leila would be a beauty. There ain't no young lady here can hold a candle to her. I want to say I did have hope to see Mr. John.
The Squire halted in the open pine forest on a wood-road behind the cabin. He threw one leg over the pommel and sat still with the ease of a horseman in any of the postures the saddle affords. "Read me both of those letters again, and slowly."
This time John made no remarks. When he came to the end of Josiah's letter, he looked towards the silent figure seated sideways. The Squire made no comment, but searched his pockets for the flint and steel he always carried. Lighting his pipe he slid to the ground.
"Take the rein, John," he said, "or the mare will follow me."
Penhallow was deep in the story these letters told, and he thought best when walking. John sat in his saddle watching the tall soldierly figure move up the road and back again to the cabin his ancestors had held through one long night of fear. John caught sight of the face as Penhallow came and then turned away on his slow walk, smoking furiously. He sat still, having learned to be respectful of the long silences to which at times Penhallow was given. Now and then with a word he quieted the uneasy mare--a favourite taught to follow the master. At last Penhallow struck his pipe on a stone to empty it, and by habit carefully set a foot on the live coal. Then he came to the off side of his mare and took the rein. Facing John, he set an elbow on the horse's back and a hand on his own cheek. This was no unusual attitude. He did not mount, but stood still. The ruddy good-humoured face, clean-shaven and large of feature, had lost its look of constant good-humour. In fact, the feature language expressed the minute's mood in a way which any one less familiar with the man than John might have read with ease. Then he said, in an absent way, "Are we men of the North all cowards like Josiah? They think so--they do really think so. It is helping to make trouble." Then he lifted himself lightly into the saddle, with swift change of mood and an odd laugh of comment on his conclusion, as he broke into a gallop. "Let us get into the sun."