erto occupied by a labourer, which lay in
a kind of hollow on the side of the knoll, where the entrance of the
secret cavern was. This cottage was as remote from Dymock's Tower in one
way, as Shanty's shed was in another; although the three dwellings
formed together a sort of equilateral triangle. Mr. Dymock long
suspected that this labourer had done his share to waste his substance;
and once or twice it had occurred to him, that if he left the Castle he
might retire to the cottage. But yet, to part with the Castle, could he
find a purchaser, would, he feared, be death to Mrs. Margaret, and how
would Tamar bear it?--this glorious Maid of Judah, as he was wont to
call her,--this palm tree of Zion, this daughter of David,--the very
fine person, and very superior air of Tamar having confirmed him in the
impression of her noble birth. It was whilst these heavy thoughts
respecting what must be done in the management of his affairs dwelt on
his mind, that the same man who had finished the unfortunate plough
appeared again in Shanty's shed.

The old man recognized him immediately, although fourteen years had much
changed his appearance, and he at once charged him with having had some
concern with the woman who left the child.

The well-acted astonishment of the vagrant, for such he was, silenced
Shanty, though it did not convince him that he was mistaken in his
conjecture. However, the old man, changing his mode of attack, and
regretting that he had put the stranger on his guard by giving him so
home a thrust, pretended to be convinced, and entered into easy
conversation with him; amongst other things asking him if perchance he
knew of any one who wanted to purchase an estate?

"Aye!" said the vagrant, to whom as we small have the pleasure of
introducing him again, we think it may be well to give the name of
Harefoot,--"Aye! old gentleman, and might one ask where this estate of
yours may be?"

"It is of no consequence," replied Shanty, "I answer no questions, as
not being empowered so to do. At all events, however, the estate is not
far from hence, and it is a magnificent place, I promise you, More's the
pity, that those who have owned it for some hundreds of years, should be
compelled to part with it."

Other matters were then introduced, and Shanty endeavoured to wind about
Harefoot, but with little success; for, deep as he thought himself, he
had one deeper to deal with. In truth, poor Shanty was but a babe in
cunning