The creature looked yellow with spite, as she addressed the young maiden with many bitter expressions, asking her what she did there, and bidding her to be gone.

“I am come,” replied Tamar, “to see your master, and I will see him.”

“It is what you never shall again,” replied the dame; “he has never been himself since he last saw you.”

“How is that?” said Tamar; “What did I do, but press him to act as an honourable man, but of this I am resolved,” she added, “that I will now see him again,” and as she spoke, she proceeded through the postern into the courts, still passing on towards the principal door of the Tower, Rebecca following her, and pouring upon her no measured abuse.  Tamar, however, remarked, that the old woman lowered her voice as they advanced nearer the house, on which she raised her own tones, and said, “I must, and will see Mr. Salmon, it is a matter of life and death I come upon;—­life and death I repeat, and if you or your master, have any thing on your minds or consciences, you will do well to hear what I have to tell you; a few hours hence and it will be too late.”

“In that case,” said Rebecca, looking at one angry and terrified, “come with me, and I will hear you.”

“No,” exclaimed Tamar, speaking loud, “I will see your master, my errand is to him,” and at the same instant, the quick eye of the young girl, observed the face of Salmon peering through a loop-hole, fitted with a casement, which gave light to a closet near the entrance.  Encouraged by this she spoke again, and still louder than before, saying, “See him I will, and from me alone, shall he hear the news I am come to tell.”  The next minute she heard the casement open, and saw the head of the old man obtruded from thence, and she heard a querulous, broken voice, asking what was the matter?  Tamar stepped back a few paces, in order that she might have a clearer view of the speaker, and then looking up, she said, “I am come Mr. Salmon as a friend, and only as a friend, to warn you of a danger which threatens you,—­hear me, and you may be saved,—­but if you refuse to hear me, I tell you, that you may be a ghastly livid corpse before the morning.”

“Rebecca, Rebecca!” cried the old man, “Rebecca, I say, speak to her,” and his voice faltered, the accents becoming puling.

“Hear her not,” said the dame, “she is a deceiver, she is come to get money out of you.”

“And heaven knows,” cried Mr. Salmon, “that she is then coming to gather fruit from a barren tree.  Money, indeed! and where am I to find money, even for her,—­though she come in such a guise, as would wring the last drop of the heart’s blood?”

“Tush!” said Rebecca, “you are rambling and dreaming again;” but the old man heard her not, he had left the lattice, and in a few seconds he appeared within the passage.  During this interval, Rebecca had not been quiet, for she had seized the arm of Tamar, and the young girl had shaken her off with some difficulty, and not without saying, “Your unwillingness to permit me to speak to your master, old woman, goes against you, but it shall not avail you, speak to him I will,” and the contest between Tamar and the old woman was still proceeding, when Salmon appeared in the passage.