am sure he would kill me for
it. Indeed he has told me as much, more than once or twice."

"Killing is a game that two can play at."

"Ah! but 't is an ugly game; and I'll have no hand in it. And--don't you
be angry with me, Tom--I've known him longest, and--I love him best."

By pertinacity and vanity in lying, she hit the mark at last. Tom
swallowed this figment whole.

"That is but reason," said he. "I take my answer, and I wish ye both
many happy days together, and well spent." With this he retired, and
blubbered a good hour in an outhouse.

Tom avoided the castle, and fell into low spirits. He told his mother
all, and she advised him to change the air. "You have been too long in
one place," said she; "I hate being too long in one place myself."

This fired Tom's gypsy blood, and he said he would travel to-morrow, if
he could but scrape together money enough to fill a pedler's pack.

He applied for a loan in several quarters, but was denied in all.

At last the poor fellow summoned courage to lay his case before Mrs.
Gaunt.

Ryder's influence procured him an interview. She took him into the
drawing-room, and bade him wait there. By and by a pale lady, all in
black, glided into the room.

He pulled his front hair, and began to stammer something or other.

She interrupted him. "Ryder has told me," said she, softly. "I am sorry
for you; and I will do what you require. And, to be sure, we need no
gamekeeper here now."

She then gave him some money, and said she would look him up a few
trifles besides, to put in his pack.

Tom's mother helped him to lay out this money to advantage; and, one
day, he called at Hernshaw, pack and all, to bid farewell.

The servants all laid out something with him for luck; and Mrs. Gaunt
sent for him, and gave him a gold thimble, and a pound of tea, and
several yards of gold lace, slightly tarnished, and a Queen Anne's
guinea.

He thanked her heartily. "Ay, Dame," said he, "you had always an open
hand, married or single. My heart is heavy at leaving you. But I miss
the Squire's kindly face too. Hernshaw is not what it used to be."

Mrs. Gaunt turned her head aside, and the man could see his words had
made her cry. "My good Thomas," said she, at last, "you are going to
travel the country: you might fall in with him."

"I might," said Leicester, incredulously.

"God grant you may; and, if ever you should, think of your poor mistress
and give him--this." She put her fing