"I'm an ould man; if it's to be ony gud to me, there's little time to lose," said the pitman, stoutly. "You're a clever lad, I'm no' misdoubting, but ye're nouther the man himsel' nor his near friend. I hevn't ony time to lose, and a bird in the hand's worth twa in the bush--no meaning ony distrust of you, young gentleman. If the young Squire should find his advantage in knowing what I know, he mought weel spare a bit something by the week, ten shilling or so, to an owld man as won't be a burden upon nobody for lang." "Don't you understand this is the very thing that I intended?" cried Horace, making--as Susan, who had gradually become interested, could perceive--the greatest effort to keep his temper. "To be sure, I'm trying all I can. I meant to let you know as soon as I could tell myself, but you'll spoil all if you interfere. Go back to Tinwood, like a sensible man; I'll see you in a day or two. A bird in the bush is better than no bird at all, I can tell you; and do you think Sir John, with a score of servants about him, would see you? Trust to me, and you shall have what you want in two or three days. I give you my word--are you not content?" The old man grumbled and hesitated, but Horace's arguments were strong, and at last overcame his opposition. Horace was not content, however, with the reluctant consent to give up his project which he at last extorted. He followed the tottering old figure out of the place, negotiated with a carter who was going that way to give him "a lift" on the road to Tinwood, and stood in the road watching till he was quite out of sight, with a total forgetfulness of Susan and the train by which she had to travel. Susan followed him at a little distance, and stood doubtfully behind waiting for him, not knowing what else to do. He had forgotten her totally in the stronger interest of this more important concern; and when he did turn round, with a vexed and thoughtful face, the start and frown with which he recognized her standing so near him were anything but flattering to his sister. "What do you mean, following me about and listening to my private affairs?" he cried, roughly. "Eavesdropper!--but I suppose that's like all women," he added, with bitterness, and an adoption of his father's look and sentiment, which drove Susan to desperation for the moment. "You are very wicked to say so," she exclaimed; "you!--do you not know why my father sent me away? Oh, Horace, is there no heart in you?--because of that letter; he said I took it--me!"