Tim drew his hand across his brow, and heaved a sigh of relief. The declaration was evidently a great relief to him. He tried to evade an answer to the other questions by talking about Meg.
"It was for the girl's sake, rye," said he, hurriedly. "I know you love her, and that she loves you, so I didn't want ye to love the old woman."
"That is untrue, Tim. I love Meg, but she does not love me."
"She will some day, rye."
"Mind your own business, my man," said Dan, sharply. "Meg has nothing to do with you, or you with her. What I wish to know is, why you threaten ill to Miss Linisfarne?"
"I can't tell ye--I can't tell ye."
"You must; and also how you came to know my name."
"Ho! ho! rye! That's easy. A pal o' mine had a cart made at the place where your caravan was built. He saw it there, and asked whose it was, so, when they said Lord Ardleigh, he passed the word round our people that a rye was on the wing."
"So you knew who I was from the first?" said Dan, in a vexed tone.
"Ay, that I did, my lord, and Mother Jericho also."