“Does he?” said Ralph.

“I should say so.  What’s him and her been a-courtin’ fer for a year ef he didn’t think she was smart?  Marm don’t like it; but ef Bud and her does, and they seem to, I don’t see as it’s marm’s lookout.”

When one is wretched, there is a pleasure in being entirely wretched.  Ralph felt that he must have committed some unknown crime, and that some Nemesis was following him.  Was Hannah deceitful?  At least, if she were not, he felt sure that he could supplant Bud.  But what right had he to supplant Bud?

“Did you hear the news?” cried Shocky, running out to meet him.  “The Dutchman’s house was robbed last night.”

Ralph thought of the three men on horseback, and to save his life he could not help associating Dr. Small with them.  And then he remembered the sorrel horse with the left forefoot and muzzle white, and he recalled the sound he had heard as of the lifting of a latch.  And it really seemed to him that in knowing what he did he was in some sense guilty of the robbery.

FOOTNOTES: 

[Footnote 17:  Written in 1871.]

CHAPTER VII.

OMINOUS REMARKS OF MR. JONES.

The school-master’s mind was like ancient Gaul—­divided into three parts.  With one part he mechanically performed his school duties.  With another he asked himself, What shall I do about the robbery?  And with the third he debated about Bud and Hannah.  For Bud was not present, and it was clear that he was angry, and there was a storm brewing.  In fact, it seemed to Ralph that there was a storm brewing all round the sky.  For Pete Jones was evidently angry at the thought of having been watched, and it was fair to suppose that Dr. Small was not in any better humor than usual.  And so, between Bud’s jealousy and revenge and the suspicion and resentment of the men engaged in the robbery at “the Dutchman’s” (as the only German in the whole region was called), Ralph’s excited nerves had cause for tremor.  At one moment he would resolve to have Hannah at all costs.  In the next his conscience would question the rightfulness of the conclusion.  Then he would make up his mind to tell all he knew about the robbery.  But if he told his suspicions about Small, nobody would believe him.  And if he told about Pete Jones, he really could tell only enough to bring vengeance upon himself.  And how could he explain his own walk through the pasture and down the road?  What business had he being out of bed at two o’clock in the morning?  The circumstantial evidence was quite as strong against him as against the man on the horse with the white left forefoot and the white nose.  Suspicion might fasten on himself.  And then what would be the effect on his prospects?  On the people at Lewisburg?  On Hannah?  It is astonishing how much instruction and comfort there is in a bulldog.  This slender school-master, who had been all his life