"If you keep coming here," resumed the shrewd old woman, "folks will begin to ask why. And if they find out why, it won't be good for you or Ermine either. Go home and look after your usual business, and be as like your usual self as you can. The talk will soon be silenced if no fuel be put to it. And don't tell your own mother what you have found." "I've no temptation to do that," answered Stephen gravely. "My mother has been under the mould this many a year." "Well, beware of any friend who tries to ferret it out of you--ay, and of the friends who don't try. Sometimes they are the more treacherous of the two. Let me know where you live, and if you are wanted I will send for you. Do you see this ball of grey wool? If any person puts that into your hand, whenever and however, come here as quick as you can. Till then, keep away." "Good lack! But you won't keep me long away?" "I shall think of her, not of you," replied Haldane shortly. "And the more you resent that, the less you love." After a moment's struggle with his own thoughts, Stephen said, "You're right, Mother. I'll stay away till you send for me." "Those are the words of a true man," said Haldane, "if you have strength to abide by them. Remember, the test of love is not sweet words, but self-sacrifice; and the test of truth is not bold words, but patient endurance." "I'm not like to forget it. You bade me tell you where I live? I am one of the watchmen in the Castle of Oxford; but I am to be found most days from eleven to four on duty at the Osney Gate of the Castle. Only, I pray you to say to whomsoever you make your messenger, that my brother's wife--he is porter at the chief portal--is not to be trusted. She has a tongue as long as the way from here to Oxford, and curiosity equal to our mother Eve's or greater. Put yon ball of wool in _her_ hand, and she'd never take a wink of sleep till she knew all about it." "I trust no man till I have seen him, and no woman till I have seen through her," said Haldane. "Well, she's as easy to see through as a church window. Ermine knows her. If you must needs trust any one, my cousin Derette is safe; she is in Saint John's anchorhold. But I'd rather not say too much of other folks." "O Stephen, Mother Isel!" "Aunt Isel would never mean you a bit of harm, dear heart, I know that. But she might let something out that she did not mean; and if a pair of sharp ears were in the way, it would be quite as well she had not the chance. She has carried a sore heart for you all these four months, Ermine; and she cried like a baby over your casting forth. But Uncle Manning and Haimet were as hard as stones. Flemild cried a little too, but not like Aunt Isel. As to Anania, nothing comes amiss to her that can be sown to come up talk. If an earthquake were to swallow one of her children, I do believe she'd only think what a fine thing it was for a gossip." "I hope she's not quite so bad as that, Stephen."