st his lot, and conscious, who shall say how bitterly
conscious, that like the baseless fabric of a dream the poems of the
priest of St John would vanish, and he, Thomas Chatterton, the true
poet, stand exposed as an unskilful forger. Sixteen summers had barely
passed over his head, and yet in moments like these he looked as if the
storms of twice sixteen years had left their mark upon him.

Mrs Chatterton received Bryda with kindly warmth, rather overdoing her
apologies for her humble fare and poor cottage. It was evident that
Chatterton chafed at this, and he scarcely spoke a word during tea. Jack
Henderson and Chatterton's mother made an attempt at conversation, but
honest Jack was not skilled in finding subjects for small talk, and he
was, moreover, so engrossed with Bryda that he had little room for any
other thought.

When tea was over Bryda said she must return to Mr Lambert's, as Sam the
footboy was to have his turn for a holiday after six o'clock. Jack was
only too glad to get Bryda off, and as they walked away together he
said,--

'Don't have too much to say to Tom Chatterton, Bryda.'

She looked up at him and laughed.

'It was he who had so much to say to me,' she said.

'Well, he is not the man for you to make a friend of, mind that.'

'Man!' she said. 'Jack, he is only a boy--just sixteen. You did not call
yourself a man then when you were at the Grammar School at Wells. But,
Jack--' she said more seriously.

'I don't want to talk any more about the apprentice, though I pity him
just as I should pity a young eagle shut up in a close cage, and feeling
all his strength to rise to the sun of no use. Oh, yes, I do pity him,
and so ought you.'

'I shall pity myself more if you give him all your company another
Sunday and shut me out.'

'Don't be silly, Jack; I am not one to cast off old friends for new.
But, Jack, I am so frightened when I think the Squire is in Bristol.
What did he come for?'

'What was he saying to you by the orchard gate that evening I came upon
you?'

'Oh, that I could not tell you; it was all meant to flatter me, and I
hate him.'

'Why did he say he would give your grandfather a month before he sold
off?'

Bryda hesitated.

'He said something about he would have me instead of the money.'

Jack Henderson's honest face flushed with indignation.

'The villain--the cursed villain! I see what he is driving at, but I
will be quits with him.'

Bryda grew calm as Jack waxed