The will Nash Caromel wished to make was accomplished, signed and sealed, himself and this said Evesham lawyer being alone privy to its contents. Dobbs the blacksmith was fetched in, and he and Grizzel witnessed it. And, as if Nash Caromel had only lived to make the will, he went galloping on to death at railroad speed directly it was done. A change took place in him the same night. His bell rang for Grizzel, and the old woman thought him dying. But he rallied a bit the next day: and when the Squire got there in the evening, he was sitting up by the fire dressed. And terribly uneasy. "I want to see her," he began, before the Squire had time to say, How are you, or How are you not. "I can't die in peace unless I see her. And it will not be long first now. I am a bit better, but I thought I was dying in the night: has Grizzel told you?" The Squire nodded in silence. He was struck with the change in Nash. "Who is it you want to see? Charlotte Tinkle?" "Ay, you've guessed it. 'Twasn't hard to guess, was it? I want to see her, Todhetley. I know she'd come." Little doubt of that. Had Nash wanted her to visit him in the midst of a fiery furnace, she'd have rushed into it headlong. But there were difficulties in the way. Charlotte Tinkle was not one of your strong-minded women who are born without nerves; and to tell her that Nash Caromel was living, and not dead, might send her into hysterics for a week. Besides that, Harry Tinkle was Nash Caromel's bitter enemy: if he learnt the truth he might be for handing him over, dying or living, to old Jones the constable. "I don't see how she is to be got here, and that's the truth, Caromel," spoke the Squire, awaking from his reverie. "It's not a thing I should like to undertake. Here comes Duffham." "I know what you are thinking of--Harry Tinkle," returned Nash, as Duffham felt his pulse. "When I was supposed to have died, balking him of his revenge, he grew mad with rage. For a month afterwards he abused me to everybody in the most atrocious terms: in public rooms, in----" "Who told you that?" interrupted the Squire. "Nave?" "Nave. I saw no one else to tell me." Duffham laughed. "Then it was just as false as Nave is. You might have known Harry Tinkle better." Nash looked up. "False!--was it?" "Why, of course it was," repeated the Squire. "I say you might have known Harry Tinkle better." Nash sighed. "Well, I suppose you think he might give me trouble now. But he would hardly care to apprehend a dying man." "We'll see about it," they said. Duffham undertook this expedition--if you can call it one. He found it easier than he anticipated. That same evening, upon quitting Caromel's Farm, Duffham went mooning along, deep in thought, as to how he should make the disclosure to Charlotte, when he overtook her near his home. Her crape veil was thrown back; her face looked pale and quiet in the starlight. "You are abroad late," said Duffham.