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"Really!" said Etwald, quite self-possessed. "I suppose Mr. Alymer told you so. I thought as much," he continued, as Jen nodded. "He saw me calming Dido's agitation when I arrived to ask Mrs. Dallas for her daughter's hand. This negress is hysterical, and on that day she happened to be so. I quieted her, yet Mr. Alymer accuses me of having caused her illness." Patricia followed her into the big, clay-soiled, dusty room, clutching her new smooth wooden tools with nervous fingers. "What's Obi? What's you torkin of?" asked Battersea, rather nervously. "An' ow does yeou know I hev black blood?".
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"I am certain of all save one," replied Arkel, in a dissatisfied tone, "and the worst of it is that Dido is the one." "Yes. I--I--I do love Miss Dallas." Within, Maurice and the major were talking gaily, and the sound of their voices and laughter came clearly to the ears of David. But silent in his deep chair sat Etwald, and the burning glance of his eyes seemed to beam menacingly through the air and compel the young man to evil thoughts. David looked at Etwald, dark and voiceless; and over his head, in the yellow lamplight, he saw the glittering golden handle of the devil-stick. "Good heavens!" cried Jen, recoiling. "What do you mean?".
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