'Old Tamar will soon be in her coffin, and this night far in the past, like many another, and 'twill be everything to you, one day, for weal or woe, to hearken to her words _now_, Master Stanley.' 'Why, Tamar, haven't I told you I'm ready to listen to you. I'll go and see you--upon my honour I will--to-morrow, or next day, at the Dell; what's the good of stopping me here?' 'Because, Master Stanley, something told me 'tis the best place; we're quiet, and you're more like to weigh my words here--and you'll be alone for a while after you leave me, and can ponder my advice as you walk home by the path.' 'Well, whatever it is, I suppose it won't take very long to say--let us walk on to the stone there, and then I'll stop and hear it--but you must not keep me all night,' he said, very peevishly. It was only twenty steps further on, and the woods receded round it, so as to leave an irregular amphitheatre of some sixty yards across; and Captain Lake, glancing from the corners of his eyes, this way and that, without raising or turning his face, stopped listlessly at the time-worn white stone, and turning to the old crone, who was by his side, he said, 'Well, then, you have your way; but speak low, please, if you have anything unpleasant to say.' Tamar laid her hand upon his arm again; and the old woman's face afforded Stanley Lake no clue to the coming theme. Its expression was quite as usual--not actually discontent or peevishness, but crimped and puckered all over with unchanging lines of anxiety and suffering. Neither was there any flurry in her manner--her bony arm and discoloured hand, once her fingers lay upon his sleeve, did not move--only she looked very earnestly in his face as she spoke. 'You'll not be angry, Master Stanley, dear? though if you be, I can't help it, for I must speak. I've heard it all--I heard you and Miss Radie speak on the night you first came to see her, after your sickness; and I heard you speak again, by my room door, only a week before your marriage, when you thought I was asleep. So I've heard it all--and though I mayn't understand all the ins and outs on't, I know it well in the main. Oh, Master Stanley, Master Stanley! How can you go on with it?' 'Come, Tamar, what do you want of me? What do you mean? What the d-- is it all about?' 'Oh! well you know, Master Stanley, what it's about.' 'Well, there _is_ something unpleasant, and I suppose you have heard a smattering of it in your muddled way; but it is quite plain you don't in the least understand it, when you fancy I can do anything to serve anyone in the smallest degree connected with that disagreeable business--or that I am personally in the least to blame in it; and I can't conceive what business you had listening at the keyhole to your mistress and me, nor why I am wasting my time talking to an old woman about my affairs, which she can neither understand nor take part in.'