Whose hair does she carry about then in that gold thing as she
hangs around her neck?"

Tom blushed scarlet, and lowered his eyes without answering.

"Dost know? 'Tis thine, by--." The words came hissing out between
his set teeth. Tom put his hands behind him, expecting to be
struck as he lifted his eyes, and said,--

"Yes, it is mine; and, I tell you again, no harm has come of it."

"'Tis a lie. I knowed how 'twas, and 'tis thou hast done it."

"Tom's blood tingled in his veins, and wild words rushed to his
tongue, as he stood opposite the man who had just given him the
lie, and who waited his reply with clinched hands, and laboring
breast, and fierce eye. But the discipline of the last year stood
him in good stead. He stood for a moment or two, crushing his
hands together behind his back, drew a long breath, and
answered,--

"Will you believe my oath, then? I stood by your side at your
mother's grave. A man who did that won't lie to you, Harry. I
swear to you there's no wrong between me and her. There never was
fault on her side. I sought her. She never cared for me, she
doesn't care for me. As for that locket, I forced it on her. I
own I have wronged her, and wronged you. I have repented it
bitterly. I ask your forgiveness, Harry; for the sake of old
times, for the sake of your mother!" He spoke from the heart, and
saw that his words went home. "Come, Harry" he went on, "you won
t turn from an old playfellow, who owns the wrong he has done,
and will do all he can to make up for it. You'll shake hands, and
say you forgive me."

Tom paused, and held out his hand.

The poacher's face worked violently for a moment or two, and he
seemed to struggle once or twice to get his hand out in vain. At
last he struck it suddenly into Tom's, turning his head away at
the same time. "'Tis what mother would ha' done," he said, "thou
cassn't say more. There tis then, though I never thought to
do't."

This curious and unexpected explanation, brought thus to a happy
issue, put Tom into high spirits, and at once roused the
castle-building power within him, which was always ready enough
to wake up.

His first care was to persuade Harry that he had better give up
poaching, and in this he had much less difficulty than he
expected. Harry owned himself sick of the life he was leading
already. He admitted that some of the men with whom he had been
associating more or less for the last year were the greatest
blackguards in the ne