The Captain does not insist, for in truth he would rather remain at the tiller. Not because he is indisposed for a spell of pulling, nor is it from disinclination to walk, that he has so readily accepted the waterman's offer. After reflecting, he would have asked the favour so courteously extended. And for a reason having nothing to do with convenience, or the fear of fatigue; but a purpose which has just shaped itself in his thoughts, suggested by the mention of the ferry.
It is that he may consider this--be left free to follow the train of conjecture which the incident has interrupted--he yields to the boatman's wishes, and keeps his seat in the stern.
By a fresh spurt the _Mary_ is carried beyond her mooring place--as she passes it her owner for an instant feathering his oars and holding up his hat. It is a signal to one he sees there, standing outside in the moonlight--his mother.
"The poor lad! His heart be sore sad; at times most nigh breakin'! That's plain--spite o' all he try hide it."
It is the Widow Wingate who thus compassionately reflects--the subject, her son.
She is alone within her cottage, the waterman being away with his boat. Captain Ryecroft has taken him down the river. It is on this nocturnal exploration, when the cliff at Llangorren is inspected by lamp-light.
But she knows neither the purpose nor the place, any more than did Jack himself at starting. A little before sunset, the Captain came to the house, afoot and unexpectedly; called her son out, spoke a few words to him, when they started away in the skiff. She saw they went down stream--that is all.
She was some little surprised, though--not at the direction taken, but the time of setting out. Had Llangorren been still in possession of the young lady, of whom her son has often spoken to her, she would have thought nothing strange of it. But in view of the late sad occurrence at the Court, with the change of proprietorship consequent--about all of which she has been made aware--she knows the Captain cannot be bound thither, and therefore wonders whither. Surely, not a pleasure excursion, at such an unreasonable hour--night just drawing down?
She would have asked, but had no opportunity. Her son, summoned out of the house, did not re-enter; his oars were in the boat, having just come off a job; and the Captain appeared to be in haste. Hence Jack's going off, without, as he usually does, telling his mother the why and the where.