'mr. cruden—mr. jobson, an intimate friend of poor eu. now, doctor, draw to the fire—the nights are getting quite chilly;' and the squire rang the bell.

'have the horses taken from the doctor's chaise, and let them be well attended to.'

'my dear sir, no, no!' urged the doctor, attempting to stop the order.

'why, man, you would never disgrace yourself by taking those poor brutes back again to-night: the merciful man is kind to his beast.'

'but i must go back,' cried the doctor.

'well, then, put the greys in when the doctor is ready. one of our fellows can take yours back to-morrow—they shan't go away to-night; i'll answer for it they have done enough for to-day. so, now, sit down, and tell me your story; but first taste this claret—it's the king of my cellar at present. jobson says it's excellent; but i can't make him drink any.'

the doctor gave himself up in despair for the time being, feeling that there was no possibility of stemming the tide; so he sat down in silence, filled with chagrin, taking little notice of mr. jobson, whose back was towards the light, obscuring his face. this circumstance, the difference in his dress, and the absence of all idea of seeing him there, together with the perturbation of his spirits, prevented immediate recognition of the stranger on the part of the doctor.

'so bloodworth has been at his tricks, has he? well, i'm glad there is an idea of ousting him; but you will never get it done. the best thing that could be done for valary would be to bankrupt him, and send him to the union; he would live better there, and so would all his family, than they do in that grim old place: it has never been the same since he had it.'

'come, come,' said the doctor, giving a glance at the stranger; 'it is neither the time nor the place to take up old grievances.'

'not the time? why, hasn't his gruel disagreed with him, and made his conscience troublesome, and sent you to fetch me out to quiet it! i say it's just the time. as to the place, it's a very comfortable one, and the only thing to make such an uncomfortable subject tolerable; so begin at once. don't wink towards jobson,' he added, with a mischievous laugh; 'he may as well know what all the world knows.'

as to being angry with the squire, it was impossible under the greatest provocation; he managed to keep all personal ill-feeling at bay; he overcame every one with a certain frank benevolence that was irresistible.

the doctor and the stranger joined in the laugh, and for the first time the former looked fairly at the latter; he was struck with doubt and surprise.

'you'll excuse me,' he said; 'has mr. jobson been long with you?'

the stranger placed himself in the light and bowed, enjoying the effect of his silent answer.

'well, this is marvellous,' said the doctor. 'i shall begin to believe i have been in fairyland.'

'ha, ha, ha! a bright set of fairies you have been among,' said the squire. 'somebody said they had worn out all their clothes, and val had made them take to the old armour. fancy fairies flying about in old armour!' and again he laughed. but the doctor's face grew more and more solemn—a fact which only increased the squire's merriment.

'sir,' said the doctor with earnest gravity, 'may i ask who you are?'

'now, that's your way of putting a question. i should have said, "when i have asked, will you tell me?"' said the squire, not recovered from his laugh.

'oh, really, squire, this is very ill-timed,' said the doctor; 'and—and i may say unfeeling. i beg your pardon, but really it is'—

'as to unfeeling,' said mr. brimble, now serious, 'i've told you i don't believe a word about valary's dying; he'll outlive us all—the worst always stay till the last; he will starve his own party out of the world, and then remain to plague us. you may shake your head; you are not the only man that shakes his head when there is nothing in it.'

'i believe i must turn you out of the conference, and take to mr. jobson,' said the doctor good-humouredly, for gravity, he saw, was of no avail. 'i wish i could starve you into a sober mind.'

'sober nonsense!—drink some claret: i'm sure you must want some, for there's nothing but sawdust in valary's cellar, i'll answer for it.'

'well, now, listen to me,' said the doctor. 'i know i have given some false alarms; but this is no false alarm; and i promise you, if i am proved an ignoramus this time, to let things go as they will hereafter without interfering. as to seeing poor marjory wither away without stirring a hand to help, or raising a voice for her, that man is not a man who could do it.'

'i honour you. chivalry for ever! and poor little madge, that i haven't spoken to since she was a few inches long, shall have help, and we'll all go to their rescue—say to-morrow morning.'

'ah! that's of no use. sir valary had a bad fit yesterday. if another should come, his mind may not be clear, and he wishes for reconciliation: he does, i am convinced.'

'ah! but you have a happy knack of being convinced of whatever you happen to wish. now, i daresay you were quite convinced that i should return with you to-night.'

'till i saw you, i confess,' said the doctor somewhat ruefully; 'but i might have known better.'

'of course you might; hasn't he had the same fits for years, and is his intellect any the worse?'

the stranger interposed. 'you'll excuse my speaking' (to mr. brimble); 'but what if dr. cruden were to give a narrative of the facts that brought him to-night? if you'd give a patient hearing, you might judge whether the doctor's anxiety has magnified the necessity for prompt measures.'

'capital plan,' said the squire. 'go on, doctor; i'll listen. jobson, pass the wine: it'll be a new story to you, but an old one to me; but mind, facts—no mysteries: they're altogether out of my way.'

'well, there is a mystery now at parker's dew,' said the doctor.

'no doubt, and that is how valary ever got there,' said the squire quickly.

'i believe you are right; and, as this gentleman is a friend of yours, and was the friend of your brother, perhaps i may speak about that very thing before him?'

the stranger rose to leave the room.

'sit down,' said the squire, holding his arm. 'go on, doctor.'

'the facts, then, are these. a short time since, bloodworth went to the dew and saw sir valary, and whatever passed between them had such an effect on him that he was placed in a most critical situation. during his rambling state of mind, when the violence of the attack was passing, marjory noticed that he repeatedly asked for elizabeth higgs. you remember her, squire?'

'old bet? of course,' said the squire, with a nod.

'"she is dead, long ago dead, father," said marjory, over and over again; but he moaned out, "no, she is not; she will rob you of everything," or something to that effect.'

'he ought to be ashamed of himself,' said the squire; 'old bet was as honest as the day; but he fancies every one is like himself and bloodworth.'

'pray, don't!' expostulated the doctor. 'well, when he was quite well and calm, marjory told him of this; he looked vexed, at first, that he had disclosed so much, but afterwards confessed to her that there were reasons why the life or death of that woman was a matter of great importance to him, and that he had lately heard she was living; and marjory gathered that bloodworth had told him so. the first time i was alone with sir valary after marjory had told me this,—which was on the very day that she met with you, sir,—i gently led the way to the subject, having first discovered, through the medium of mr. jobson, who knew the old woman, that she was really dead.'

'what! knew bet eggs?' said the squire, 'why, jobson, i shall get quite afraid of you, and begin to talk about fairies myself.'

'it was not very remarkable, when you know how the acquaintance was brought about,' said the stranger, smiling.

'go on, doctor,' said the squire, who was beginning to get interested.

'well, as i said, i led to the subject indirectly—gently.'

'leave you alone for finessing,' said the squire; 'now, i should have gone straight at him at once.'

'and missed your aim, squire—i knew better. very gently i got him to talk of old times, and then i brought the woman higgs upon the carpet, and mentioned, just incidentally, that i had met with a person who had actually seen her buried—not assuming, you understand me, that sir valary had any interest in her death, nor even hinting at such a thing.'

'well,' said the squire, 'go on.'

'well, he didn't speak at first; he became much agitated, which i pretended not to notice; and after i had changed the subject, and he had recovered, he said, "are you sure of that woman's death? i heard lately that she was living." i told him i believed there was no doubt of it, but if he had any interest in her, as an old servant, i would get indubitable proof for him. he said quickly, "i wish you could." now this gentleman, my informant, has been the object of my search ever since, but i could get no clue to him. i was afraid of making direct inquiry, lest i should excite suspicion in bloodworth, who has been very uneasy and changed in his manner lately. yesterday morning he went to the dew, and had a long interview with sir valary, the result of which was the severest attack i ever saw him in. i really can't see what bloodworth has to do with it; the man is reasonable enough to speak to; but sir valary's state last night, and the whole of to-day, plainly indicates that there must be interference—that sir valary must be treated as incapable of conducting his own affairs, and bloodworth made accountable to others, or else altogether ejected.'

'now, do you see,' said the squire, when the doctor had finished, 'i have had this story, almost word for word, except bet eggs, over and over again; valary quarrels with bloodworth, gets into a rage, has a fit, and frightens them all. well, that is as far as the play has gone yet. now comes the second part. bloodworth comes, begs pardon, is forgiven, and they are thicker than ever. i tell you, doctor, i would as soon interfere between a man and his wife as between those two.'

'you are hard to convince,' said the doctor. 'mr. jobson, you seem an authority with mr. brimble. i wish you would say a word; at any rate, i wish you would give me some evidence that sir valary will believe, of the death of that woman.'

the stranger fixed his eyes for a moment on the fire, then turning to the squire said, 'the death of that woman is of importance—at least, so sir valary thinks. bloodworth is a desperate villain, as i have good reason to know.'

'you!' said the squire, almost breathless.

'yes, i have known him for many years, though i never saw him till lately.'

'well,' said the squire, throwing back his head and putting his hands in his pockets, 'i give you up.'

'don't do that; you have shown such generosity in taking me almost entirely on my own testimony, that you must not stumble at trifles.'

'you are an odd fellow,' said the squire, looking at him; 'but i believe in you.'

'do you know this?' asked the stranger, taking a miniature from his pocket.

'know it!' said the squire; 'why, it's eu; i remember the case. it was done before he was married.'

a knock at the door, and the entrance of a servant with a note, almost made the squire angry. 'what does this mean?' he said, looking at the address.

'what! —— vandercroft, esquire! what did you bring it here for?'

the servant said it was for the gentleman who lodged at biddy sparks'.

'this is from shady eggs. i shall read it aloud.'

mr. brimble looked inquiringly at the stranger, who immediately took the note. 'leave it with me,' he said to the servant. 'this,' he continued, 'is from shady eggs. i shall read it aloud.'

'"respected sir,—i trust you will excuse the incorrectness of putting a dash before your name, also any mistake i may have made in spelling it, should it be erroneously written. i have to inform you that mr. bloodworth, the steward to sir valary de la mark, has pertinaciously endeavoured to discover your address, which i have, to the best of my poor ability, kept from him. if you desire to avoid an interview with him, as i divined was the case from your manner in the portrait gallery, i warn you that he now knows of your abode; that is, if it continues to be in the apartments at mrs. sparks', which you bespoke when i had the honour of being with you in the public vehicle. i do not love to interfere in other men's matters; and truly, with no malice to mr. bloodworth, but with respectful consideration for you, i write these few lines,

"and am, your servant to command,

"shadrach higgs.

'"i send this by a trusty messenger, who will return it to me if you are not to be found."'

'higgs all over,' said dr. cruden.

'stop,' said the squire; 'let us begin at the beginning. what makes him call you vandercroft?'

'it is not the first name,' said the stranger, 'that has been gratuitously assigned to me, over and above that with which my parents honoured me.'

'then your name is not vandercroft?' said dr. cruden.

'no.'

'why, then, assume it?'

'i did not; bloodworth bestowed it on me through a natural misconstruction of his, and i did not think it worth while to undeceive him.'

'capital!' said the squire. 'i'll wager anything that you are not jobson.'

the stranger smiled.

'are you?' asked the squire eagerly.

'according to you and biddy sparks i am.'

'according to me! why, you told me it was so.'

'on the contrary, it was you told me.'

'why,' said the squire, starting from his seat, 'don't you remember that morning?'—

'perfectly,' interrupted the stranger,—'when you addressed me as mr. jobson.'

'well, you never contradicted me.'

'a man hasn't lived to grey hairs,' said the stranger, with a smile, pointing to the changing colour of his own, 'without knowing the worth of a name, as you observed just now; and as you were satisfied with jobson, it quite contented me.'

'but how did biddy get hold of it?'

'like many others, biddy is satisfied with slight evidence; she saw "matthew jobson" on the brass plate of a portmanteau which by an accident i had exchanged for my own in travelling, and she settled the matter at once without question.'

mr. brimble, holding the miniature in his hand, looked alternately at it and the stranger, while dr. cruden asked, 'will you favour us with your true name?'

the stranger looked at the squire and replied, 'i think my uncle knows it—eustace de la mark.'

'i did know it,' said the squire, almost breathless; 'i did know it—i was sure of it; even while i called him jobson i felt drawn to him. my dear boy, what right have you with grey hairs?' he said, affectionately grasping both his hands; 'and why have you served us in this way?'

'i have a very long story to tell,' said eustace—no longer 'the stranger'—after the first agitation had passed; 'but it is of the utmost importance, remember, that i should not be known to any but yourselves for the present. my intention was to remain altogether concealed for some time yet; but i could not withstand it,' he said, again grasping his uncle's hand.

'you'll let me tell my wife? up to this moment she believes you an impostor, and me a dupe.

'let her think so still; the longer she is deceived the more complete the triumph will be.'

'well, i may tell char, at all events. how delighted she will be! she has never doubted you a minute.

a smile of satisfaction brightened the face of eustace.

'no;' he said; 'let me have the pleasure of telling her myself, at some future time.'

'pooh!' said the squire, who hated secrets; 'i almost wish i didn't know it; i must tell somebody.'

'when you have heard what i have to tell you, you will see the importance of secrecy; and, to prevent you from indiscretion, i think, with dr. cruden, if sir valary is indeed so very ill, we had better all three go to parker's dew; and on our journey you shall have a full account of all my history. you know sir valary believes me to be dead?'

'not a bit of it,' said the squire; 'and i never believed it.'

'i give you my honour he does,' said dr. cruden.

'have it your own way; but, eu, is it necessary to go to-night? why not start the first thing in the morning? you know they have no beds, no supper; i doubt if they have even a rushlight.'

'it is growing late,' said dr. cruden; 'if we had gone when i first came'—

'i should not have found my nephew,' said the squire, looking with beaming affection on eustace.

'you anticipate me, squire, but not correctly; i meant we should have had time to go without alarming them at so unseasonable an hour as we should now arrive at.'

'all right; then you think it is better to go to-morrow morning?'

'i am sorry for the delay.'

'its importance,' said eustace, 'depends on sir valary's state. is he expecting my uncle?'

'oh no; and he has nothing to fear from bloodworth to-night. i trust, indeed, he will be kept calm till morning; and on the whole, perhaps'—

'beaten, fairly beaten,' said the squire. 'now that is settled; so draw close, and, eustace, begin.'