Newton returned to the house; his father made no objection to his departure; and, in fulfilment of his promise, Newton was ready to start, when he encountered Ramsden at the door.

“Mr Ramsden,” said Newton, “I am requested by the owner of my vessel to sail immediately; but if you think that the life of Mr Spinney is seriously in danger, I will throw up the command of the vessel, rather than leave my mother under such an accumulation of disasters.  I beg as a favour that you will not disguise the truth.”

“You may sail this minute, if you please, Mr Forster; I am happy to be able to relieve your mind.  Mr Spinney is doing very well, and you’ll see him at his desk on the first Sunday of your return.”

“Then I am off:  good-bye, Mr Ramsden; many thanks.”

With a lightened heart, Newton leapt into the skiff which was to carry him on board of the sloop; and in less than half an hour was standing away to the southward before a fine wind, to execute the orders which he had received.

Ramsden remained a few minutes at the door, until he saw Newton ascend the side of the vessel; then he entered, and was received by Betsy.

“Well, Betsy, you agreed to make Mrs Forster believe that Mr Spinney was dead; but we little thought that such would really be the case.”

“Lord love you, sir! why, you don’t say so?”

“I do, indeed, Betsy; but mind, we must keep it a secret for the present, until we can get Mrs Forster out of the way.  How is she this morning?”

“Oh, very stiff, and very cross, sir.”

“I’ll go up to her,” replied Ramsden; “but recollect, Betsy, that you do not mention it to a soul;” and Ramsden ascended the stairs.

“Well, Mrs Forster, how do you feel this morning? do you think you could get up?”

“Get up, Mr Ramsden! not to save my soul—­I can’t even turn on my side.”

“Very sorry to hear it, indeed,” replied the surgeon; “I was in hopes that you might have been able to bear a journey.”

“Bear a journey, Mr Ramsden! why bear a journey?”

“I am sorry to inform you that Mr Spinney’s gone—­poor old man!  There must be a coroner’s inquest.  Now, it would be as well if you were not to be found, for the verdict will be ‘Wilful Murder.’”

“O dear!  O dear!” exclaimed Mrs Forster, jumping out of her bed with fright, and wringing her hands:  “What can I do?—­what can I do?”

“At present it is a secret, Mrs Forster, but it cannot be so long.  Miss Dragwell, who feels for you very much, begged me not to say a word about it.  She will call and consult with you, if you would like to see her.  Sad thing indeed, Mrs Forster, to be placed in such a situation by a foolish husband.”

“You may well say that, Mr Ramsden,” replied the lady, with asperity; “he is the greatest fool that ever God made!  Everyone knows what a sweet temper I was before I married; but flesh and blood cannot bear what I am subjected to.”