The latter, indeed, displayed such uncommon breadth of shoulders, and such unusual development of muscle, that it was seldom necessary for him--even in those savage regions and wild times--to display anything else in order to make men respectful.
While our three friends were doing justice to the bacon and breadfruit set before them by Widow Stuart, the widow herself was endeavoring to repress some strong feeling, which caused her breast to heave more than once, and induced her to turn to some trifling piece of household duty to conceal her emotion.

These symptoms were not lost upon her son, whose suspicions and anger had been aroused by the familiarity of Gascoyne.
Making some excuse for leaving the room, towards the conclusion of the meal, he followed his mother to an outhouse, whither she had gone to fetch some fresh milk.
"Mother," said Henry, respectfully, yet with an unwonted touch of sternness in his voice; "there is some mystery connected with this man Gascoyne that I feel convinced you can clear up--" "Dear Henry," interrupted the widow, and her cheek grew pale as she spoke, "do not, I beseech you, press me on this subject.

I cannot clear it up." "Say you _will_ not, mother," answered Henry, in a tone of disappointment.
"I would if I dared," continued the widow.

"The time may come when I--" "But why not now," urged the youth, hastily.

"I am old enough, surely, to be trusted.