Martin Oldkirk cast himself down again upon the settle from which he had risen, pressing his hands upon his eyes; and when Dudley added a few words more, he exclaimed, in a loud, harsh voice, "Hold your tongue, hold your tongue! you have named a fiend, and you have raised one!" "I did not intend it, I can assure you," replied Dudley, "let us speak of something else." "No!" cried the man, "I can neither speak nor think of anything else now that name is mentioned. Let me look at that paper; let me see what is put down there." "I have no objection," answered Dudley; "but if it is to agitate you thus, you had really a great deal better forbear." The man did not answer, but stretched forth his hand; and Dudley gave him the paper. He then laid it down before him, drew the single candle closer to him, and supporting his broad forehead with his clasped hands, and leaning his elbows on the board, gazed upon the memoranda with a haggard and staring eye. He remained in the same position for fully ten minutes, without uttering one word, and then, pushing the paper across to Dudley, he said, in a much calmer tone, "That is Mr. Norries's writing?" "It is," answered Dudley; "but I am quite sure he had no idea the questions he had there put down for me to ask would agitate you so terribly!" "He should have known! he should have known!" said Martin Oldkirk, with stern bitterness; "but it matters not. I shall have recovered myself before tomorrow morning, and we will then talk more--but yet, tell me first, what have you to do with this man? This, this----" but it seemed he could not utter the word, and after breaking off the sentence abruptly, he added, "Have you ever seen him? Do you know him?" "I have seen him, do know him," answered Dudley; "and I have every reason to believe that he has endeavoured to injure me most basely." Dudley paused, and thought for a moment or two, and then added, "I had better, perhaps, tell you how; for you had some share in the business." "I?--I?" exclaimed Martin Oldkirk. "What had I to do between you and him? I have not seen him for many long years. I knew Sir Arthur Adelon was here, it is true, and I kept out of his way; but the priest is not with him surely." "The priest is with him," answered Dudley; "and has never left him." "Oh! yes he did; yes he did!" replied the peasant; "he was away two whole years, I know. I thought he had gone to do penance, as he would call it, and would never appear in the world again. Had he done so, had he wept in solitude and silence for the whole of his bad career, I might have forgotten it: no, not forgotten it! forgiven, perhaps, but forgot it, never! He is here, then, here in this country; here in the baronet's house?" "I cannot exactly say that," answered Dudley; "for I do not know, and I would not deceive you on any account; but he was here two years ago, rather more, perhaps, for it was in the autumn; and he did all he could to injure me, though life or death were at stake."