'Master Stanley, it won't do. I heard it--I could not help hearing. I little thought you had any such matter to speak--and you spoke so sudden like, I could not help it. You were angry, and raised your voice. What could old Tamar do? I heard it all before I knew where I was.' 'I really think, Tamar, you've taken leave of your wits--you are quite in the clouds. Come, Tamar, tell me, once for all--only drop your voice a little, if you please--what the plague has got into your old head. Come, I say, what is it?' He stooped and leaned his ear to Tamar; and when she had done, he laughed. The laugh, though low, sounded wild and hollow in that dark solitude. 'Really, dear Tamar, you must excuse my laughing. You dear old witch, how the plague could you take any such frightful nonsense into your head? I do assure you, upon my honour, I never heard of so ridiculous a blunder. Only that I know you are really fond of us, I should never speak to you again. I forgive you. But listen no more to other people's conversation. I could tell you how it really stands now, only I have not time; but you'll take my word of honour for it, you have made the most absurd mistake that ever an old fool tumbled into. No, Tamar, I can't stay any longer now; but I'll tell you the whole truth when next I go down to Redman's Farm. In the meantime, you must not plague poor Miss Radie with your nonsense. She has too much already to trouble her, though of quite another sort. Good-night, foolish old Tamar.' 'Oh, Master Stanley, it will take a deal to shake my mind; and if it be so, as I say, what's to be done next--what's to be done--oh, what _is_ to be done?' 'I say good-night, old Tamar; and hold your tongue, do you see?' 'Oh, Master Stanley, Master Stanley! my poor child--my child that I nursed!--anything would be better than this. Sooner or later judgment will overtake you, so sure as you persist in it. I heard what Miss Radie said; and is not it true--is not it cruel--is not it frightful to go on?' 'You don't seem to be aware, my good Tamar, that you have been talking slander all this while, and might be sent to gaol for it. There, I'm not angry--only you're a fool. Good-night.' He shook her hand, and jerked it from him with suppressed fury, passing on with a quickened pace. And as he glided through the dark, towards splendid old Brandon, he ground his teeth, and uttered two or three sentences which no respectable publisher would like to print. CHAPTER XLV. DEEP AND SHALLOW. Lawyer Larkin's mind was working more diligently than anyone suspected upon this puzzle of Mark Wylder. The investigation was a sort of scientific recreation to him, and something more. His sure instinct told him it was a secret well worth mastering.