‘Just a moment longer, honey. Will you come into the great parlour?’
She followed him thither.
‘If anything happens to me while the fighting is going on—it may be on these very fields—you will know what to do,’ he resumed. ‘But first please sit down again, there’s a dear, whilst I write what’s in my head. See, there’s the best paper, and a new quill that I’ve afforded myself for’t.’
‘What a strange business! I don’t think I much like it, Mr. Derriman,’ she said, seating herself.
He had by this time begun to write, and murmured as he wrote—
‘“Twenty-three and a half from N.W. Sixteen and three-quarters from N.E.”—There, that’s all. Now I seal it up and give it to you to keep safe till I ask ye for it, or you hear of my being trampled down by the enemy.’
‘What does it mean?’ she asked, as she received the paper.
‘Clk! Ha! ha! Why, that’s the distance of the box from the two corners of the cellar. I measured it before you came. And, my honey, to make all sure, if the French soldiery are after ye, tell your mother the meaning on’t, or any other friend, in case they should put ye to death, and the secret be lost. But that I am sure I hope they won’t do, though your pretty face will be a sad bait to the soldiers. I often have wished you was my daughter, honey; and yet in these times the less cares a man has the better, so I am glad you bain’t. Shall my man drive you home?’
‘No, no,’ she said, much depressed by the words he had uttered. ‘I can find my way. You need not trouble to come down.’
‘Then take care of the paper. And if you outlive me, you’ll find I have not forgot you.’