But who can keep a secret in a village where events are few and eyes and ears always open? Norman and Stephen might keep their counsel; but, in spite of their reticence, a rumour got abroad that the young squire was going to be tried for his life for breaking open the mail-bag. As I was preparing for dinner on Sunday afternoon, I was struck by the combined dolefulness and mystery observable in my attendant's manner. An inquiry on my part brought a burst of tears from Ellen. "Are you ill, or have you been quarrelling With Tom?" I asked; for the girl, a pretty, modest creature, was engaged to a farmer's son in the neighbourhood. "Oh dear no, Miss Berty. We never quarrel, and I am quite well." "Then tell me what is amiss. You have only to, speak, if I can do anything to remove the trouble." "It is nothing about myself, miss. It is the young squire." "My brother!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean? He was well an hour ago. What has happened since then?" Glancing towards the mirror, I caught a glimpse, of my face, from which every trace of colour had fled, and Ellen, frightened at the effect of her words, said— "You must not be alarmed, miss. Mr. Savell is all right in himself, only it is the trouble about the mail-bag that is on all our minds. They do say in the kitchen that it is a hanging matter for anybody, if he was a duke, to break the seal of one. Anyway, we all know that the squire is to be brought before the magistrates, and tried for it to-morrow morning." "Nonsense, Ellen! People are not hanged for trifles nowadays. As to trying my brother, you may be sure he knows nothing about it, or I should have heard also. There was a little dispute with Frith at the station, but Mr. Savell made all right, and there the matter ended. You are a good, tender-hearted girl; but there is nothing to grieve about, or I should be crying too," said I, smiling at my little maid. "But, ma'am—Miss Berty, I know for a fact that Frith wrote to the Queen, or somebody very great, and a gentleman was sent from London to have the young master tried. And Parks saw a policeman from town show a paper to the squire, and then the two walked away together." "You are wrong, Ellen. My brother would have told me, were there any ground for such a report." "Indeed I am not mistaken," said Ellen. "I wish I were. The London gentleman was at church this morning; you must have seen him yourself, Miss Berty." "There was a stranger, a fine, tall man, and he sat—" "In Tom's father's pew," interposed Ellen, eagerly, and forgetting her good manners. "He is staying at The Arms, and Frith has been backwards and forwards to see him there. Frith is cut up enough that he will have to give evidence against the squire, though he was vexed with him at first. But, dear, dear! There goes the five minutes' bell, and you are not ready for dinner."