“Five months,” Tinman replied.  “He would have completed his term of service in five months.”

“And to think of his being a rich man because he deserted,” Mrs. Cavely interjected.  “Oh!  I do call it immoral.  He ought to be apprehended and punished, to be an example for the good of society.  If you lose time, my dear Martin, your chance is gone.  He’s wriggling now.  And if I could believe he talked us over to that young impudent, who has n’t a penny that he does n’t get from his pen, I’d say, denounce him to-morrow.  I long for Elba.  I hate this house.  It will be swallowed up some day; I know it; I have dreamt it.  Elba at any cost.  Depend upon it, Martin, you have been foiled in your suits on account of the mean house you inhabit.  Enter Elba as that girl’s husband, or go there to own it, and girls will crawl to you.”

“You are a ridiculous woman, Martha,” said Tinman, not dissenting.

The mixture of an idea of public duty with a feeling of personal rancour is a strong incentive to the pursuit of a stern line of conduct; and the glimmer of self-interest superadded does not check the steps of the moralist.  Nevertheless, Tinman held himself in.  He loved peace.  He preached it, he disseminated it.  At a meeting in the town he strove to win Van Diemen’s voice in favour of a vote for further moneys to protect ‘our shores.’” Van Diemen laughed at him, telling him he wanted a battery.  “No,” said Tinman, “I’ve had enough to do with soldiers.”

“How’s that?”

“They might be more cautious.  I say, they might learn to know their friends from their enemies.”

“That’s it, that’s it,” said Van Diemen.  “If you say much more, my hearty, you’ll find me bidding against you next week for Marine Parade and Belle Vue Terrace.  I’ve a cute eye for property, and this town’s looking up.”

“You look about you before you speculate in land and house property here,” retorted Tinman.

Van Diemen bore so much from him that he asked himself whether he could be an Englishman.  The title of Deserter was his raw wound.  He attempted to form the habit of stigmatizing himself with it in the privacy of his chamber, and he succeeded in establishing the habit of talking to himself, so that he was heard by the household, and Annette, on her return, was obliged to warn him of his indiscretion.  This development of a new weakness exasperated him.  Rather to prove his courage by defiance than to baffle Tinman’s ambition to become the principal owner of houses in Crikswich, by outbidding him at the auction for the sale of Marine Parade and Belle Vue Terrace, Van Diemen ran the houses up at the auction, and ultimately had Belle Vue knocked down to him.  So fierce was the quarrel that Annette, in conjunction with Mrs. Cavely; was called on to interpose with her sweetest grace.  “My native place,” Tinman said to her; “it is my native place.  I have a pride in it; I desire to own property in it, and your father opposes me.  He opposes me.  Then says I may have it back at auction price, after he has gone far to double the price!  I have borne—­I repeat I have borne too much.”