‘Well,’ he said, with a laugh, ‘I hope I don’t want much cautioning on that subject. The moment one is told that a matter is private, it is sacred--at least, to a man.’ ‘Ah! you think more sacred to a man than a woman, Mr. Jim? I don’t agree with you; but still, I’m glad that it’s your view. If you should find out---- You know of all that is going on in the family, don’t you?’ ‘In the family,’ cried Jim, astonished; ‘in what family?’ ‘You may well be surprised. What should I have to do with your respectable family?’ cried Mrs. Brown, laughing again. It was not like other people’s laughter; it was a thin little sound, which, if it conveyed mockery of other people, seemed in some indescribable way to mock herself too. ‘But yet,’ she added, ‘it is really your respectable family I mean. If your aunt should be hard pressed by those people, and felt as if she might be crushed altogether--now, mind what I say--felt as if she might be crushed altogether----’ ‘Do you mean my aunt Emily, Lady William? Why, who in the name of wonder wants to crush her altogether? You have got some joke in your mind that I don’t understand.’ ‘Felt,’ repeated Mrs. Brown with emphasis, ‘as if she might be crushed altogether. I will make you say it after me to impress it on your memory, if you don’t mind. Felt as if she might be crushed altogether--you understand?’ ‘I understand the words: but what they mean, or what you mean----’ ‘That is quite enough, so long as you know the words. Keep them fast, and in such a case let me know; not until you see there is very grave trouble, mind--not if you hear that she sees her way out of it.’ ‘You are speaking Hebrew, I think,’ said Jim. ‘No, I am speaking English. You will see, even if they don’t tell you, by your people’s looks, or you will get it out of one of your sisters. Mind! if you find that they are all in the dumps, and she feels herself beaten--you’ll see it in their looks--let me know. If I should not be here I will let you know where I am.’ ‘Are you going away?’ said Jim. She did not make him any immediate answer, but turned round upon him, in the light of a lamp which they were approaching, putting back her veil a little, with a mischievous look. ‘Should you be very sorry? No, I’m afraid you would not be very sorry,’ she said. ‘Yes, I should,’ said Jim, with an impetuosity which alarmed him next moment, as he suddenly realised that somebody passing (but there was no one passing), or somebody unseen at a door or window, might hear what he said. ‘I should be very sorry indeed to think I should not see you any more,’ he added, in a lower tone. ‘But that dreadful fate need not come, even if I were to leave Watcham,’ she said, in her mocking tone. ‘We met before I came here, which is the origin of all our acquaintance, and we may meet after I leave here. The world is a wide place. I shall let you know, somehow, where I am: and in the case I have so impressed upon you----’