e way over from England on purpose to serve me again."

"I'm thinking," said Jacob, who had too much Lancashire downrightness
and straightforwardness to use any diplomacy, or go beating about the
bush, "as it's very poor service ye'll get from him, Mr Frank, if I may
be allowed to speak out my mind. He's drawn you into the mire again
already, that's plain enough. Oh, dear mayster, I cannot hold my
tongue--I must and I _will_ speak plain to you. If you let this man
serve you as he's doing now, he'll just make a tool on you for his own
purposes, till he's squeezed every drop of goodness out of you, and left
you like a dry stick as is fit for nothing but the burning."

It is impossible to describe adequately the changes which passed over
the countenance of Juniper Graves while this brief conversation was
being carried on. Rage, malice, fear, hatred--all were mingled in his
mean and cunning features. But he controlled himself; and at last spoke
with an assumed smoothness, which, however, could not quite hide the
passion that made his voice tremulous.

"Really, sir, I don't know who this young man is--some escaped convict,
I should think; or American savage, I should imagine, by his talk. I
really hope, sir, you're not going to listen to this wild sort of
garbage. If it wasn't demeaning myself, and making too much of the
impertinent young scoundrel, I'd bring an action against him for
reformation of character."

"There, there, Juniper," said Frank, motioning him to be quiet; "don't
distress yourself. Jacob's prejudiced; he don't really know you, or
he'd speak differently. You must be friends; for I know you both love
me, and would do anything to serve me. Come, Jacob, give Juniper your
hand; take my word for it, he's an honest fellow."

But Jacob drew back.

"I know nothing about his honesty," he said; "but I _do_ know one thing,
for Mr Hubert's told me--he's led you into sin at home, Mayster Frank,
and he'll lead you into sin again here; and he's just cutting you off
from your best friends and your brightest hopes; and I've just come over
once more to beg and beseech you, by all as you holds dear, to have
nothing no more to do with yon drunken profligate. I'd rayther have
said this to yourself alone, but you've forced me to say it now, and
it's better said so nor left unsaid altogether. And now I'll bid you
good evening, for it's plain I can do little good if I tarry longer."
He turned and left them: as he