“I dunno how it come about,” she said, lifting her head and fixing her dull eyes on vacancy; “I was thinkin' o' the time I was up at Strasburg, while your brother was livin', more 'n twenty year ago.” With all his habitual self-control and gravity of deportment, Dr. Deane could not repress a violent start of surprise. He darted a keen, fierce glance at Miss Betsy's face, but she was staring at the opposite wall, apparently unconscious of the effect of her words. “I don't see what that has to do with Gilbert Potter,” he presently said, collecting himself with an effort. “Nor I, neither,” Miss Lavender absently replied, “only it happened that I knowed Eliza Little,--her that used to live at the Gap, you know,--and just afore she died, that fall the fever was so bad, and I nussin' her, and not another soul awake in the house, she told me a secret about your brother's boy, and I must say few men would ha' acted as Henry done, and there's more 'n one mighty beholden to him.” Dr. Deane stretched out his hand as if he would close her mouth. His face was like fire, and a wild expression of fear and pain shot from his eyes. “Betsy Lavender,” he said, in a hollow voice, “thee is a terrible woman. Thee forces even the secrets of the dying from them, and brings up knowledge that should be hidden forever. What can all this avail thee? Why does thee threaten me with appearances, that cannot now be explained, all the witnesses being dead?” “Witnesses bein' dead,” she repeated. “Are you sorry for that?” He stared at her in silent consternation. “Doctor,” she said, turning towards him for the first time, “there's no livin' soul that knows, except you and me, and if I seem hard, I'm no harder than the knowledge in your own heart. What's the difference, in the sight o' the Lord, between the one that has a bad name and the one that has a good name? Come, you set yourself up for a Chris'en, and so I ask you whether you're the one that ought to fling the first stone; whether repentance--and there's that, of course, for you a'n't a nateral bad man, Doctor, but rather the contrary--oughtn't to be showed in deeds, to be wuth much! You're set ag'in Martha, and your pride's touched, which I can't say as I wonder at, all folks havin' pride, me among the rest, not that I've much to be proud of, Goodness knows; but never mind, don't you talk about Gilbert Potter in that style, leastways before me!” During this speech, Dr. Deane had time to reflect. Although aghast at the unexpected revelation, he had not wholly lost his cunning. It was easy to perceive what Miss Lavender intended to do with the weapon in her hands, and his aim was to render it powerless.