n very troublesome, my lord, though a
well-meaning youth at bottom.

"'But it is on my conscience,' says he, 'and if I don't tell it to you
I shall tell it to some one else, because tell it I must, or bust!'

"So when he went that far, my lord, I saw as how he was real uneasy,
and I made up my mind to listen. And then he says,--

"'Night before last feyther was coming through the copse wood that
runs t'other side o' the fence from Master Annersley's, and there, in
the thickest part o' it, he saw Miss Ruth a standing, and wi' her was
Mr. Branscombe.'

"'Which Mr. Branscombe?' says I.

"'Mr. Dorian,' he says, 'He seen him as plain as life, though it was
dusk, standing wi' his back half turned towards him, but not so turned
but what he could see his ear and part o' his face. He had a hold o'
Miss Ruth's hands; and was speaking very earnest to her, as though he
were persuading her to something she were dead against. And she were
crying very bitter, and trying to draw her hands away; but presently
she got quiet like; and then they went away together, slowly at first,
but quicker afterwards, in the direction of the wood that leads to
Langham. He did not stir a peg until they was out o' sight, he was so
afeard o' being seen. And now it is on his conscience that he did not
speak sooner, ever since he saw old Mr. Annersley yesterday, like a
mad creature, looking for his girl.'

"That was his story, my lord. And he told it as though he meant it. I
said to him as how Mr. Dorian was in Lonnun, and that I didn't believe
one word of it; and then he said,--

"'Lonnun or no Lonnun, there is no mistake about it. If, as you say,
he did go up to Lonnun, he must ha' come down again by the Langham
train, for he see him wi' his two eyes.'

"'Mr. Horace is very like Mr. Dorian,' I said. (Forgive me, my lord,
but there was a moment when I would gladly have believed the blame
might fall on Mr. Horace.) 'There are times when one can hardly know
them asunder;' but he scouted this notion.

"'Feyther seen him,' he said. 'He had one o' them light overcoats on
he is so fond o' wearing. It was him, and no other. He noticed the
coat most perticler. And a damn'd shame it is for him! If you don't
believe me, I can't help you. I believe it: that is enough for me.'"

Gale ceases speaking. And silence follows that lasts for several
minutes. Then he speaks again:

"I ask your pardon, my lord, for having so spoken about any member of
the family.