et I loved him because I had
brought him up, and I never had a child of my own. I never wished to
be married, but I used to wish that little Jasper had been my own
child. I could have had an authority over him then that I hadn't as
his nurse, and perhaps it might have all turned out differently.

There were many tales about Sir Jasper, but I didn't think it was my
place to listen to them.

Only, when it's your own eyes, it's different, and I couldn't help
seeing how like young Robert, the under-gamekeeper, was to the
Family. He had their black, curly hair, and merry Irish eyes, and
he, if you please, had just Sir Jasper's winning ways.

Why he was taken on as gamekeeper no one could make out, for when he
first came up to the Hall to ask the master for a job, they tell me
he knew no more of gamekeeping than I do of Latin. Young Robert was
a steady chap, and used to read and write of an evening instead of
spending a jolly hour or two at the Dove and Branch, as most young
fellows do, and as, indeed, my young master did too often. And Sir
Jasper, he gave him books without end and good advice, and would
have him so often about him he set everybody's tongue wagging to a
tune more merry than wise. And young Robert loved the master, of
course. Who didn't?

Well, there came a day when the Lord above saw fit to put out the
sunshine like as if it had been a bedroom candle; for Sir Jasper, he
was brought back from the hunting-field with his back broke.

I always take a pleasure in remembering that I was with him to the
last, and did everything that could be done for him with my own
hands. He lingered two days, and then he died.

It was the hour before the dawn, when there is always a wind, no
matter how still the night, a chilly wind that seems to find out the
marrow of your bones, and if you are nursing sick folk, you bank up
the fire high and watch them extra careful till the sun gets up.

Sir Jasper opened his eyes and looked at me--oh! so kindly. It
brings tears into my eyes when I think of it. 'Nelly,' he says, 'I
know I can trust you.'

And I said, 'Yes, sir.' And so he could, whatever it might have
been. What happened afterwards wasn't my fault, and couldn't have
been guarded against.

'Then go,' he said, 'to my old secretaire and open it.'

And I did. There was rows of pigeon-holes inside, and little drawers
with brass knobs.

'You take hold of the third knob from the right, Nelly,' said he.
'Don't pull it; g