"I really cannot understand this," said she.

Merton hesitated for some time, and appeared much troubled. "It was
something, ma'am--something that Sir Wynston's man said to me; and there
it is out," he said at last, with an effort.

"Well, Merton," said she, "I won't press you further; but I must say,
that as this communication, whatever it may be, has caused you,
unquestionably, very great uneasiness, it seems to me but probable that
it affects the safety or the interests of some person--I cannot say of
whom; and, if so, there can be no doubt that it is your duty to acquaint
those who are so involved in the disclosure, with its purport."

"No, ma'am, there is nothing in what I heard that could touch anybody but
myself. It was nothing but what others heard, without remarking it, or
thinking about it. I can't tell you anymore, ma'am; but I am very
unhappy, and uneasy in my mind."

As the man said this, he began to weep bitterly.

The idea that his mind was affected now seriously occurred to Mrs.
Marston, and she resolved to convey her suspicions to her husband, and to
leave him to deal with the case as to him should seem good.

"Don't agitate yourself so, Merton; I shall speak to your master upon
what you have said; and you may rely upon it, that no surmise to the
prejudice of your character has entered my mind," said Mrs. Marston,
very kindly.

"Oh, ma'am, you are too good," sobbed the poor man, vehemently. "You