'E'es, I'll take it,' he replied, holding out his hand. 'Tom Brice, you won't deceive me?' 'Noa, sure,' said Tom and Meg nearly in the same breath. 'You are an honest English lad, Tom--you would not betray me?' I was speaking imploringly. 'Noa, sure,' repeated Tom. There was something a little unsatisfactory in the countenance of this light-haired youth, with the sharpish up-turned nose. Throughout our interview he said next to nothing, and smiled lazily to himself, like a man listening to a child's solemn nonsense, and leading it on, with an amused irony, from one wise sally to another. Thus it seemed to me that this young clown, without in the least intending to be offensive, was listening to me with a profound and lazy mockery. I could not choose, however; and, such as he was, I must employ him or none. 'Now, Tom Brice, a great deal depends on this.' 'That's true for her, Tom Brice,' said Meg, who now and then confirmed my asseverations. 'I'll give you a pound _now_, Tom,' and I placed the coin and the letter together in his hand. 'And you are to give this letter to Lady Knollys, at Elverston; you know Elverston, don't you?' 'He does, Miss. Don't ye, lad?' 'E'es.' 'Well, do so, Tom, and I'll be good to you so long as I live.' 'D'ye hear, lad?' 'E'es,' said Tom; 'it's very good.' 'You'll take the letter, Tom?' I said, in much greater trepidation as to his answer than I showed. 'E'es, I'll take the letter,' said he, rising, and turning it about in his fingers under his eye, like a curiosity. 'Tom Brice,' I said, 'If you can't be true to me, say so; but don't take the letter except to give it to Lady Knollys, at Elverston. If you won't promise that, let me have the note back. Keep the pound; but tell me that you won't mention my having asked you to carry a letter to Elverston to anyone.' For the first time Tom looked perfectly serious. He twiddled the corner of my letter between his finger and thumb, and wore very much the countenance of a poacher about to be committed. 'I don't want to chouce ye, Miss; but I must take care o' myself, ye see. The letters goes all through Silas's fingers to the post, and he'd know damn well this worn't among 'em. They do say he opens 'em, and reads 'em before they go; an' that's his diversion. I don't know; but I do believe that's how it be; an' if this one turned up, they'd all know it went be hand, and I'd be spotted for't.' 'But you know who I am, Tom, and I'd save you,' said I, eagerly. 'Ye'd want savin' yerself, I'm thinkin', if that feel oot,' said Tom, cynically. 'I don't say, though, I'll not take it--only this--I won't run my head again a wall for no one.' 'Tom,' I said, with a sudden inspiration, 'give me back the letter, and take me out of Bartram; take me to Elverston; it will be the best thing--for _you_, Tom, I mean--it will indeed--that ever befell you.' With this clown I was pleading, as for my life; my hand was on his sleeve. I was gazing imploringly in his face.