in earnest at last. He got up from my feet, and he
settled down quiet again, all on a sudden. 'You have said enough' (that
was how he answered me). 'You have broken my life. I have no hopes and
no prospects now. I had a pride in the farm, miss, and a pride in my
work; I bore with your brutish cousins' hatred of me; I was faithful to
Mr. Meadowcroft's interests; all for your sake, Naomi Colebrook--all
for your sake! I have done with it now; I have done with my life at the
farm. You will never be troubled with me again. I am going away, as the
dumb creatures go when they are sick, to hide myself in a corner, and
die. Do me one last favor. Don't make me the laughingstock of the whole
neighborhood. I can't bear that; it maddens me only to think of it.
Give me your promise never to tell any living soul what I have said to
you to-night--your sacred promise to the man whose life you have
broken!' I did as he bade me; I gave him my sacred promise with the
tears in my eyes. Yes, that is so. After telling him I hated him (and I
did hate him), I cried over his misery; I did! Mercy, what fools women
are! What is the horrid perversity, sir, which makes us always ready to
pity the men? He held out his hand to me; and he said, 'Good-by
forever!' and I pitied him. I said, 'I'll shake hands with you if you
will give me your promise in exchange for mine. I beg of you not to
leave the farm. What will my uncle do if you go away? Stay here, and be
friends with me, and forget and forgive, Mr. John.' He gave me his
promise (he can refuse me nothing); and he gave it again when I saw him
again the next morning. Yes. I'll do him justice, though I do hate him!
I believe he honestly meant to keep his word as long as my eye was on
him. It was only when he was left to himself that the Devil tempted him
to break his promise and leave the farm. I was brought up to believe in
the Devil, Mr. Lefrank; and I find it explains many things. It explains
John Jago. Only let me find out where he has gone, and I'll engage he
shall come back and clear Ambrose of the suspicion which his vile
brother has cast on him. Here is the pen all ready for you. Advertise
for him, friend Lefrank; and do it right away, for my sake!"

I let her run on, without attempting to dispute her conclusions, until
she could say no more. When she put the pen into my hand, I began the
composition of the advertisement as obediently as if I, too, believed
that John Jago was a living man.

I