r to death by strangling as he had ever been during his professional
experience. It was not that he was on his own account the object of his
prisoner's wrath, but that by his conduct he had, as it were,
supplemented the inexpiable wrong originally committed, and earned for
himself a portion of the undying hate which was due elsewhere. "I may
kill this brute some day," thought Richard, ruefully, "in spite of
myself." And he resolved on the first opportunity to communicate a
certain secret which was on his mind to a friendly ear; so that _that_
at least should be utilized to the disadvantage of his foes, in case
incontrollable passion should one day compel him to sacrifice a lesser
victim, and make his great revenge to fail. It had not once entered into
his mind that he could _forego_ his purpose, but only that circumstances
might render it impossible.

The occasion for which he looked was not long in coming. His days of
punishment concluded, he was once more marched out upon the moor, and
again found himself in Balfour's company. Not a sign passed between them
this time, but as they delved they talked. "I fear you have been
suffering for my sake," said Richard.

"It is no matter. My shoulders are broad enough for two," returned the
other, kindly. "I am right glad to see your face again, though it is so
changed. You have been ill, have you not, lad?"

"I don't know. Something is wrong with me, and I may be worse--that is
why I want to speak to you. Listen!"

"All right. Don't look this way, and sink your voice if either of these
dogs comes to leeward."

"If you get away from this place, and _I_ don't--"

"Now, none of that, lad," interrupted the old man, earnestly. "That's
the worst thing you can get into your head at Lingmoor, if you ever want
to leave it. Never _say_ die, nor even _think_ it. I am three times your
age, and yet I mean to get out again and enjoy myself. It is but fifteen
years now, without counting remission--though I've got into disgrace
with my cursed watch-dog, and sha'n't get much of that--and you must
keep a good heart."

"I shall keep a firm one," answered Richard, "never fear. I wish to
guard against contingencies, that's all. If I die--"

"Damned if you shall," said Balfour, sturdily, quite innocent of any
plagiarism from Uncle Toby.

"Very good," continued Richard, coolly. "If you get out of this before
me, let us merely say, I have something to tell you which may be of
service to you.