I had had no fear of being seen, sitting as I was on the side from which they came. One of the three, however, caught a glimpse of me, and even in the moment ere she vanished I fancied I saw the lily-white grow rosy-red. But it must have been fancy, for she could hardly have been quite pale upon horseback on such a keen morning. I could not sit any longer. As soon as I ceased to hear the sound of their progress, I rose and walked home—much quieter in heart and mind than when I set out. As I entered by the nearer gate of the vicarage, I saw Old Rogers enter by the farther. He did not see me, but we met at the door. I greeted him. “I’m in luck,” he said, “to meet yer reverence just coming home. How’s poor Miss Weir to-day, sir?” “She was rather better, when I left her this morning, than she had been through the night. I have not heard since. I left my sister with her. I greatly doubt if she will ever get up again. That’s between ourselves, you know. Come in.” “Thank you, sir. I wanted to have a little talk with you.—You don’t believe what they say—that she tried to kill the poor little fellow?” he asked, as soon as the study door was closed behind us. “If she did, she was out of her mind for the moment. But I don’t believe it.” And thereupon I told him what both his master and I thought about it. But I did not tell him what she had said confirmatory of our conclusions. “That’s just what I came to myself, sir, turning the thing over in my old head. But there’s dreadful things done in the world, sir. There’s my daughter been a-telling of me—” I was instantly breathless attention. What he chose to tell me I felt at liberty to hear, though I would not have listened to Jane herself.—I must here mention that she and Richard were not yet married, old Mr Brownrigg not having yet consented to any day his son wished to fix; and that she was, therefore, still in her place of attendance upon Miss Oldcastle. “—There’s been my daughter a-telling of me,” said Rogers, “that the old lady up at the Hall there is tormenting the life out of that daughter of hers—she don’t look much like hers, do she, sir?—wanting to make her marry a man of her choosing. I saw him go past o’ horseback with her yesterday, and I didn’t more than half like the looks on him. He’s too like a fair-spoken captain I sailed with once, what was the hardest man I ever sailed with. His own way was everything, even after he saw it wouldn’t do. Now, don’t you think, sir, somebody or other ought to interfere? It’s as bad as murder that, and anybody has a right to do summat to perwent it.” “I don’t know what can be done, Rogers. I CAN’T interfere.”