"Better dead than disgraced," replied the woman in her hard Scotch fashion. And Paul understood the fear that his mother must have had of this woman whom her father had placed in authority over her. A pain shot through his heart, and he felt like answering the woman angrily. Ever since their meeting on the Altarnun Moors Paul had been keenly sensitive about his mother's good name, and resented any approach to light words concerning her. "I am trying to find out all about her," he said presently. "And I would be very glad if you could give me any information concerning her childhood and girlhood up here." "Why should I?" asked the woman. "It'll not be to my advantage." "Please don't be so sure of that," replied Paul. He knew instinctively that she was avaricious by nature, and would be likely to do anything for gain. "You wouldn't thank me for telling," she replied. "If you promise to tell me all you know," said Paul, "I am empowered to give you five guineas." "And it'll get me into no trouble?" she asked, with that suggestion of Scotch caution of which Paul had so often heard. "No," replied he, "your name need never be mentioned; but I'm anxious to find out all I can concerning the childhood and girlhood of Jean Lindsay up to the time of her marriage." "Her marriage!" said the woman scornfully. "Weel, it may be she was married, after all, and it may be I was hard on her, and it may be, too, it was because I thought Donald cared more for her than for my children. Anyhow, she never liked me, and I don't say that I liked her. She was a good lass as lasses go, although never tractable--always stubborn. An unnatural way she had with her, too: she always wanted to be out on the moors alone, and I used to tell Donald it would never come to any good. She might have married well. Willie Fearn, who owns a farm over the moors here, would have had her, and he's worth thousands of pounds now, is Willie. But she would have nothing to say to him. One day I saw a stranger coming up the path with her, one of these handsome Southerners, and they used to meet in secret, and I suppose he courted her. Anyhow, she ran away with him, or said she did, and then came back the next day telling us that she was married." "Yes?" said Paul eagerly. He knew all this before, but it seemed to him as though he was getting nearer the truth that he longed to learn. "And did she stay with you long?" "Not long," replied the woman. "You see----" And a look almost of shame came into her eyes. "Well, she stayed as long as she dared." "And have you heard what has become of her since?" he asked. "We've heard that she died. We've no proof of it, but we saw in the papers a few weeks afterwards that a girl was found dead, and from the description given of her we concluded that it was Jean." "But did you not try and find out?" he asked. "Surely your husband would not be so callous towards his daughter?"