“I swear it!” he said, half-choking. “From first to last, however the villains tempted me, I gave them no answer. I never knew the girl had got the stone, or that you would think to read my baseness in it. I have desired so earnestly to serve you faithfully from your first coming—to win into your favour and your confidence. But I saw you would never let me—that the curse of my inheritance was on me for ever and ever.”
“What inheritance, my poor fellow?”
The servant had bowed his head; but he looked up eagerly upon hearing the gentle tones.
“May I tell you?—no, not that. But, if you will let me—I have much to say that I have never dared to say yet. I am a coward and I dare so little. Perhaps living in the shadow of this haunted place has wrought upon and unnerved me. But now, if you will let me—I have so longed to ask your leave—to lean humbly upon your boldness and your strength and learn, if I could, to be a man at last.”
Tuke held up a warning finger.
“Ah, no!” said the other. “I am not exciting myself into a fever. Master, if you only knew how I have sickened with the desire to unburden myself to you! But I dared not; and I saw the suspicion and distrust grow in your eyes, and then I dared less and less.”
“Tell me now what it is you have wished to say.”
“Will you let me? Will you be content to take a humble servant’s word for the truth of what he states, when at the same time he implores you not to force him answer where he fain would be silent?”
“A thundering preface. Go on, my friend. I believe that what you do elect to tell me will be God’s truth.”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes! Sir, I would ask you—do you know—did you ever hear who was the last tenant of ‘Delsrop’?”