"A report that he--_he_--has been here disguised as a laborer, has dared
to show himself in the place where he'll come yet, to the gibbet."

Mrs. Hare's face turned as white as death; Mr. Carlyle rose and
dexterously contrived to stand before her, so that it should not be
seen. Barbara silently locked her hands, one within the other, and
turned to the window.

"Of whom did you speak?" asked Mr. Carlyle, in a matter-of-fact tone, as
if he were putting the most matter-of-fact question. He knew too well;
but he thought to temporize for the sake of Mrs. Hare.

"Of whom do I speak!" uttered the exasperated justice, nearly beside
himself with passion; "of whom would I speak but the bastard Dick! Who
else in West Lynne is likely to come to a felon's death?"

"Oh, Richard!" sobbed forth Mrs. Hare, as she sank back in her chair,
"be merciful. He is our own true son."

"Never a true son of the Hares," raved the justice. "A true son of
wickedness, and cowardice, and blight, and evil. If he has dared to show
his face at West Lynne, I'll set the whole police of England upon his
track, that he may be brought here as he ought, if he must come. When
Locksley told me of it just now, I raised my hand to knock him down, so
infamously false did I deem the report. Do _you_ know anything of his
having been here?" continued the justice to his wife, in a pointed,
resolute tone.

How Mrs. Hare would have extricated herself, or what she would have
answered, cannot even be imagined, but Mr. Carlyle interposed.

"You are frightening Mrs. Hare, sir. Don't you see that she knows
nothing of it--that the very report of such a thing is alarming her into
illness? But--allow me to inquire what it may be that Locksley said?"

"I met him at the gate," retorted Justice Hare, turning his attention
upon Mr. Carlyle. "He was going by as I reached it. 'Oh, justice, I am
glad I met you. That's a nasty report in the place that Richard has been
here. I'd see what I could do toward hushing it up, sir, if I were you,
for it may only serve to put the police in mind of by gone things, which
it may be better they should forget.' Carlyle, I went, as I tell you,
to knock him down. I asked him how he could have the hardihood to repeat
such slander to my face. He was on the high horse directly; said the
parish spoke the slander, not he; and I got out of him what it was he
had heard."

"And what was it?" interrupted Mr. Carlyle, more eagerly than he
generally sp