‘Then why are you always watching me? I cannot walk in the garden, I cannot go out of the door, I cannot eat a meal, but your eyes are on me. Is there anything very frightful about me? Anything very extraordinary? No—it is not that. I can read the thoughts in your head. You are finding fault with me. I am not doing useful work. I am wasting valuable hours over empty pursuits. I am eating what disagrees with me, too much, or too little. Understand this, once for all. I hate to be watched. Here is a case in point, a proof if one were needed. I came out here to cut this grass, and at once you are after me. You have spied my proceedings. I must not do this. If I sharpen the scythe I am all in the wrong, blunting the blade.’ The tears filled Barbara’s eyes. ‘I am told nothing,’ continued Mr. Jordan. ‘Everything I ought to know is kept concealed from me, and you whisper about me behind my back to Jasper and Mr. Coyshe.’ ‘Indeed, indeed, dear papa——’ ‘It is true. I have seen you talking to Jasper, and I know it was about me. What were you trying to worm out of him about me? And so with the doctor. You rode with him all the way from Tavistock to the Down the other day; my left ear was burning that afternoon. What did it burn for? Because I was being discussed. I object to being made the topic of discussion. Then, when you parted with the doctor, Jasper Babb ran out to meet you, that you might learn from him how I had behaved, what I had done, whilst you were away. I have no rest in my own house because of your prying eyes. Will you go now, and leave me.’ ‘I will go now, certainly,’ said Barbara, with a gulp in her throat, and swimming eyes. ‘Stay!’ he said, as she turned. He stood leaning his elbow on the head of the scythe, balancing it awkwardly. ‘I was told nothing of your visit to Buckfastleigh. You told Eve, and you told Jasper—but I who am most concerned only heard about it by a side-wind. You brought Jasper his fiddle, and when I asked how he had got it, Eve told me. You visited his father. Well! am I nobody that I am to be kept in the dark?’ ‘I have nothing of importance to tell,’ said Barbara. ‘It is true I saw Mr. Babb, but he would not let me inside his house.’ ‘Tell me, what did that man say about the money?’ ‘I do not think there is any chance of his paying unless he be compelled. He has satisfied his conscience. He put the money away for you, and as it did not reach you the loss is yours, and you must bear it.’ ‘But good heavens! that is no excuse at all. The base hypocrite! He is a worse thief than the man who stole the money. He should sell the fields he bought with my loan.’ ‘They were fields useful to him for the stretching of the cloth he wove in his factory.’ ‘Are you trying to justify him for withholding payment?’ asked Mr. Jordan. ‘He is a hypocrite. What was he to cry out against the strange blood, and to curse it?—he, Ezekiel Babb, in whose veins ran fraud and guile?’