Carrington experienced a quick sinking of the heart.

A fleeting sense of humor succeeded--had he interfered between man and wife?
But surely if this had been the case the girl would not have spoken as she had.
He wound Mr.Cleggett up with sundry pegs of strong New England rum.

He had met a gentleman and lady on the road that day; he wondered, as he toyed with his glass, if it could have been the Ferrises?
Mounted?
Yes, mounted.

Then it was Ferris and his wife--or it might have been Captain Murrell and Miss Malroy the captain was a strapping, black-haired chap who rode a big bay horse.

Miss Malroy did not live in that part of the country; she was a friend of Mrs.Ferris', belonged in Kentucky or Tennessee, or somewhere out yonder--at any rate she was bringing her visit to an end, for Ferris had instructed him to reserve a place for her in the north-bound stage on the morrow.
Carrington suddenly remembered that he had some thought of starting north in the morning himself, but he was still undecided.