the true
story of what had happened at the limekiln. The authorities of the
prison--present, of course, at the interview--warned him to remember
that what he said might be taken down in writing, and produced against
him in court.

"Take it down, gentlemen, and welcome," Ambrose replied. "I have
nothing to fear; I am only telling the truth."

With that he turned to Naomi, and began his narrative, as nearly as I
can remember, in these words:

"I may as well make a clean breast of it at starting, my girl. After
Mr. Lefrank left us that morning, I asked Silas how he came by my
stick. In telling me how, Silas also told me of the words that had
passed between him and John Jago under Mr. Lefrank's window. I was
angry and jealous; and I own it freely, Naomi, I thought the worst that
could be thought about you and John."

Here Naomi stopped him without ceremony.

"Was that what made you speak to me as you spoke when we found you at
the wood?" she asked.

"Yes."

"And was that what made you leave me, when you went away to Narrabee,
without giving me a kiss at parting?"

"It was."

"Beg my pardon for it before you say a word more."

"I beg your pardon."

"Say you are ashamed of yourself."

"I am ashamed of myself," Ambrose answered penitently.

"Now you may go on," said Naomi. "Now I'm satisfied."

Ambrose went on.

"We were on our way to the clearing at the other side of the wood while
Silas was talking to me; and, as ill luck would have it, we took the
path that led by the limekiln. Turning the corner, we met John Jago on
his way to Narrabee. I was too angry, I tell you, to let him pass
quietly. I gave him a bit of my mind. His blood was up too, I suppose;
and he spoke out, on his side, as freely as I did. I own I threatened
him with the stick; but I'll swear to it I meant him no harm. You
know--after dressing Silas's hand--that John Jago is ready with his
knife. He comes from out West, where they are always ready with one
weapon or another handy in their pockets. It's likely enough he didn't
mean to harm me, either; but how could I be sure of that? When he
stepped up to me, and showed his weapon, I dropped the stick, and
closed with him. With one hand I wrenched the knife away from him; and
with the other I caught him by the collar of his rotten old coat, and
gave him a shaking that made his bones rattle in his skin. A big piece
of the cloth came away in my hand. I shied it into the quicklime close
by us,