the
Dales first came there. He had no proper servant, but just pigged it
anyhow with the occasional assistance of a woman and her husband. His
clothes, though neatly brushed, were too shabby and overworn for a
person of his position. And he was not a miser; he was a proud
self-respecting man, who naturally would desire to maintain
conventionally adequate state, were he able to do so.

These thoughts worried Dale. He really loved Mr. Bates, thoroughly
appreciated the great dignity and sweetness of his nature, and felt it
to be a monstrous and intolerable thing that the dear old chap at the
age of seventy-three, instead of being allowed to end his days in a
happy, seemly style, should be as if were bled to death by a
conscienceless reprobate. But what could one do? It was like the
cruelties of the woods that one regrets, but can not prevent--the
rabbits chased by the weasels, the pheasants killed by the foxes, the
thrushes destroyed by the hawks.

Any doubt that remained in the mind of Dale was soon dissipated. He
told Mavis how he had seen Bates junior--a seedy, wicked-looking
wretch now--lurking at dusk in the cottage porch, and how next morning
he had ridden over to talk to Mr. Bates about this ill-omened visitor.
Mr. Bates said it was true that his son had been there for two or
three days, but he was now gone; and he declined to discuss the
matter any further. "I can't speak of it, William. I thank you for
meaning kindness, but it's a thing I can't speak of."

Dale also told Mrs. Goudie that Richard Bates had shown himself in the
neighborhood, and asked her if the fact was generally known. He was
aware that Mrs. Goudie had almost as much regard for the old man as he
had himself.

"No, sir," said Mrs. Goudie, "I hadn't 'a' heard of it."

"Then that proves how close he kept. No doubt he came and went as
surreptitiously as he could. Let it be between ourselves, Mrs. Goudie.
Don't spread the tale an inch beyond us three."

"I will not, sir. But, oh, well-a-day, it's a bad bit o' news, sir. I
did hope Mr. Bates was cured o' that runnin' sore."

She had been summoned from the kitchen just before leaving for the
night; and with her shawl over her head, her wrinkled face working,
and her bony hands clasped she stood near the table and waited for Mr.
Dale to give the signal for her to withdraw.

"If you should see him, at any time, let me know, Mrs. Goudie."

"I will, sir."

"I might perhaps do good, if I could ge