"So when he went that far, my lord, I saw as how he was real uneasy, and I made up my mind to listen. And then he says,-- "'Night before last feyther was coming through the copse wood that runs t'other side o' the fence from Master Annersley's, and there, in the thickest part o' it, he saw Miss Ruth a standing, and wi' her was Mr. Branscombe.' "'Which Mr. Branscombe?' says I. "'Mr. Dorian,' he says, 'He seen him as plain as life, though it was dusk, standing wi' his back half turned towards him, but not so turned but what he could see his ear and part o' his face. He had a hold o' Miss Ruth's hands; and was speaking very earnest to her, as though he were persuading her to something she were dead against. And she were crying very bitter, and trying to draw her hands away; but presently she got quiet like; and then they went away together, slowly at first, but quicker afterwards, in the direction of the wood that leads to Langham. He did not stir a peg until they was out o' sight, he was so afeard o' being seen. And now it is on his conscience that he did not speak sooner, ever since he saw old Mr. Annersley yesterday, like a mad creature, looking for his girl.' "That was his story, my lord. And he told it as though he meant it. I said to him as how Mr. Dorian was in Lonnun, and that I didn't believe one word of it; and then he said,-- "'Lonnun or no Lonnun, there is no mistake about it. If, as you say, he did go up to Lonnun, he must ha' come down again by the Langham train, for he see him wi' his two eyes.' "'Mr. Horace is very like Mr. Dorian,' I said. (Forgive me, my lord, but there was a moment when I would gladly have believed the blame might fall on Mr. Horace.) 'There are times when one can hardly know them asunder;' but he scouted this notion. "'Feyther seen him,' he said. 'He had one o' them light overcoats on he is so fond o' wearing. It was him, and no other. He noticed the coat most perticler. And a damn'd shame it is for him! If you don't believe me, I can't help you. I believe it: that is enough for me.'" Gale ceases speaking. And silence follows that lasts for several minutes. Then he speaks again: "I ask your pardon, my lord, for having so spoken about any member of the family. But I thought it was only right you should know." "You have acted very kindly." Even to himself his tone is strained and cold. "This Andrews must be silenced," he says, after a little pause, full of bitterness. "I have seen to that, my lord. After what I said to him, he will hardly speak again to any one on the subject." "See to it, Simon. Let him fully understand that dismissal will be the result of further talk." "I will, my lord." Then, very wistfully, "Not that any one would distrust Mr. Dorian in this matter. I feel--I know, he is innocent." Lord Sartoris looks at him strangely; his lips quiver; he seems old and worn, and as a man might who has just seen his last hope perish.