But by this it seems he has killed two birds with one stone, he has suffered the Spanish devil to escape when he knew that our mother feared the coming of a Spaniard, and he has made enmity between us and Squire Bozard, our good neighbour, who strangely enough does not favour his wooing.' 'It is so,' said my father.

'Thomas, your mother's blood is on your hands.' I listened and could bear this goading injustice no longer.
'It is false,' I said, 'I say it even to my father.

The man had killed my mother before I met him riding back to seek his ship at Yarmouth and having lost his way; how then is her blood upon my hands?
As for my wooing of Lily Bozard, that is my matter, brother, and not yours, though perhaps you wish that it was yours and not mine.

Why, father, did you not tell me what you feared of this Spaniard?
I heard some loose talk only and gave little thought to it, my mind being full of other things.
And now I will say something.

You called down God's curse upon me, father, till such time as I should find this murderer and finish what I had begun.