“If it was only you what would it matter?” said the vagrant, with a philosophy which sounded less harsh to the person addressed than to him who looked on. “You--you’re old, and you’ll die, and there would be an end of it; but them that suffer most have years and years before them, and if you die before you do justice----” “Then _you_ can tell, that have aye wanted to tell!” she cried with a hot outburst of indignation mingled with tears. Then she resumed that monotonous movement, rocking herself again and again, and calmed herself down. It is not so intolerable to a peasant to be told of his or her approaching end as it is to others. She was used to plain speech, and was it not reasonable what he said? “It’s all true, quite true. I’m old, and I cannot bide here for ever to watch him and think of him--and I might make a friend, the Lord grant it, and find one to stand by him----” “You mean another, a second one,” said her son. He stood through all this side dialogue munching his bread and cheese without once glancing at her even, his shoulders high against the mantelpiece, his eyes cast down. After a moment’s interval ’Lizabeth rose. She came forward moving feebly in her agitation to where Geoff sat. “My young lord, if I tell you _that_ that I would rather die than tell--that that breaks my heart; you’ll mind that I am doing it to make amends to the dead and to the living--and--you’ll swear to me first to keep it secret? You’ll swear your Bible oath?--without that, not another word.” “Swear!” said Geoff, in alarm. “Just swear--you can do it as well, they tell me, in one place as another, in a private house or a justice court. I hope we have Bibles here--Bibles enough--if we but make a right use of them,” said the old woman, perplexed, mingling the formulas of common life with the necessities of an extraordinary and unrealized emergency. “Here is a Testament, that is what is taken to witness in the very court itself. You’ll lay your hand upon it, and you’ll kiss the book and swear. Where are you going to, young man?” Geoff rose and pushed away the book she had placed before him. He was half indignant, half disappointed. “Swear!” he said, “do you know what I want this information for? Is it to lock it up in my mind, as you seem to have done? I want it for use. I want it to help a man who has been cruelly treated between you. I have no right to stand up for him,” said Geoff, his nostrils expanding, his cheeks flushing, “but I feel for him--and do you think I will consent to put my last chance away, and hear your story for no good? No indeed; if I am not to make use of it I will go back again and find out for myself--I don’t want to be told.”