He saw that his words were falling upon dull ears. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. "I need not remind you, Sir Rowland, that I am aware you are deeply implicated in the Jacobite plot which is now known to be hatching. She told you —the truth. But it was extraordinary what seemingly irrelevant things could restore her to the thought of Capes again.
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