Thus encouraged, Stephen, with the utmost simplicity and frankness,
though with fewer words than Martha would have put into the narrative,
told Mr. Lockwood the whole history of his life; to which the clergyman
listened with ever-increasing interest, as he noticed how the boy was
telling all the truth, and nothing but the truth, even to his joining
Black Thompson in poaching. When he had finished, Mr. Lockwood went to
a large cabinet in the room, and, bringing out a bundle of old yellow
documents, soon found among them the paper James Fern had spoken of on
his death-bed. It was written by the clergyman living in Longville at the
time of old Martha Fern's death, to certify that she had settled, and
maintained her settlement on the hillside, without paying rent, or having
her fences destroyed, for upwards of twenty years, and that the land was
her own by the usages of the common.

'I don't know what use it will be,' said Mr. Lockwood, 'but I will take
legal advice upon it; that is, I will tell my lawyer all about it, and
see what we had best do. You may leave the case in my hands, Stephen. But
to-morrow morning we start for the south of France, where my daughter
must live all the winter for the benefit of the warm climate; and I must
go with her, for she is my only treasure now. Can you live in your cabin
till we come home? Will you trust yourself to me, Stephen? I will not see
a son of my old servant wronged.'

'Please, sir,' said Stephen, 'the cabin is good enough for us, and we are
nearer church and the night-school; only I didn't like to break my word
to father, besides losing the old home: we can stay all winter well. I'll
trust you, sir; but my work is dangersome, and please God I should get
killed, will you do the same for Martha and little Nan?'