“Why do you stand?” she added, stamping her little foot with impatience; “why do you not obey me?” and her dark eyes flashed and sparkled, “go and tell your master that I wish to see him.”

“And who must I tell him that you are?” he asked.

“My name has been mentioned in your presence,” she replied, “and if you did not hear it the fault is your own; it will not be told again.”

“Are you the daughter of this gentleman?” asked Jacob.

“You have heard what he called me,” she answered, “go and deliver my message.”

Whilst Jacob was gone, for go he did, at the young girl’s bidding, Dymock told Tamar all that had taken place in Mr. Salmon’s room, and Tamar confessed her wish to be permitted to speak to the old gentleman herself.  Dymock was glad that any one should undertake this business, provided he could be relieved from it, and he promised Tamar that he would stand by the bridge and watch for her till her return.

“Then I will myself go up to the Tower and demand admission:”  so saying, she ran from Dymock, coursed rapidly through the various courts, and swift as the wind ascended the stairs, meeting no one in her way.  She found the door of Salmon’s chamber ajar, and pushing it open, she entered, and stood before Salmon, Jacob, and Rebecca (the old woman before mentioned as having come with Mr. Salmon to the Tower;) these three were all deep in consultation, Mr. Salmon being still seated where the Laird had left him.

As Tamar burst upon them in all the light of youth; of beauty, and of conscious rectitude in the cause for which she came, the three remained fixed as statues, Jacob and Rebecca in shrinking attitudes, their eyes set fearfully upon her, their faces gathering paleness as they gazed; whilst Salmon flushed to the brow, his eyes distended and his mouth half open.

The young girl advanced near to the centre of the room and casting a glance around her, in which might be read an expression of contempt quite free from fear, she said, “I am come by authority to receive the just dues of the late possessor of this place, and I require the sum to be told into my hand, and this I require in the name of Him who rules on high, and who will assuredly take cognizance of any act of fraud used towards a good and honourable man.”

“And who? and who?” said Salmon, his teeth actually chattering “who are you? and whence come you?”

“I come from the Laird of Dymock,” she answered, “and in his name I demand his rights!”

“You, you,” said Salmon, “you are his daughter?”

“That remains to be told,” replied Tamar, “what or who I am, is nothing to you, nor to you, nor you,” she added, looking at Jacob and Rebecca, her eye being arrested for a minute on each, by the singular expression which passed over their countenances.  “Give me the Laird’s dues and you shall hear no more from me,” she said, “never again will I come to trouble your