"If things go well, I mean to marry Ambrose."

"If things go well," I repeated. "What does that mean? Money?"

She shook her head.

"It means a fear that I have in my own mind," she answered--"a fear,
Mr. Lefrank, of matters taking a bad turn among the men here--the
wicked, hard-hearted, unfeeling men. I don't mean Ambrose, sir; I mean
his brother Silas, and John Jago. Did you notice Silas's hand? John
Jago did that, sir, with a knife."

"By accident?" I asked.

"On purpose," she answered. "In return for a blow."

This plain revelation of the state of things at Morwick Farm rather
staggered me--blows and knives under the rich and respectable roof-tree
of old Mr. Meadowcroft--blows and knives, not among the laborers, but
among the masters! My first impression was like _your_ first
impression, no doubt. I could hardly believe it.

"Are you sure of what you say?" I inquired.

"I have it from Ambrose. Ambrose would never deceive me. Ambrose knows
all about it."

My curiosity was powerfully excited. To what sort of household had I
rashly voyaged across the ocean in search of rest and quiet?