their very being is pining after, and that they are starving their nature of its necessary food.  Then Polwarth’s idea turned itself round in Juliet’s mind, and grew clearer, but assumed reference to weeds only, and not flowers.  She thought how that fault of hers had, like the seed of a poison-plant, been buried for years, unknown to one alive, and forgotten almost by herself—­so diligently forgotten indeed, that it seemed to have gradually slipped away over the horizon of her existence; and now here it was at the surface again in all its horror and old reality! nor that merely, for already it had blossomed and borne its rightful fruit of dismay—­an evil pod, filled with a sickening juice, and swarming with gray flies.—­But she must speak, and, if possible, prevent the odd creature from going and publishing in Glaston that he had seen Mrs. Faber, and she was at the Old House.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked abruptly.

“How do you know that I knew, ma’am?” returned Polwarth, in a tone which took from the words all appearance of rudeness.

“You were not in the least surprised to see me,” she answered.

“A man,” returned the dwarf, “who keeps his eyes open may almost cease to be surprised at any thing.  In my time I have seen so much that is wonderful—­in fact every thing seems to me so wonderful that I hardly expect to be surprised any more.”

He said this, desiring to provoke conversation.  But Juliet took the answer for an evasive one, and it strengthened her suspicion of Dorothy.  She was getting tired of her!  Then there was only one thing left!—­The minor prophet had betaken himself again to his work, delving deeper, and throwing slow spadeful after spadeful to the surface.

“Miss Drake told you I was here!” said Juliet.

“No, indeed, Mrs. Faber.  No one told me,” answered Polwarth.  “I learned it for myself.  I could hardly help finding it out.”

“Then—­then—­does every body know it?” she faltered, her heart sinking within her at the thought.

“Indeed, ma’am, so far as I know, not a single person is aware you are alive except Miss Drake and myself.  I have not even told my niece who lives with me, and who can keep a secret as well as myself.”

Juliet breathed a great sigh of relief.

“Will you tell me why you have kept it so secret?” she asked.

“Because it was your secret, ma’am, not mine.”

“But you were under no obligation to keep my secret.”

“How do you justify such a frightful statement as that, ma’am?”

“Why, what could it matter to you?”

“Every thing.”

“I do not understand.  You have no interest in me.  You could have no inducement.”

“On the contrary, I had the strongest inducement:  I saw that an opportunity might come of serving you.”

“But that is just the unintelligible thing to me.  There is no reason why you should wish to serve me!” said Juliet, thinking to get at the bottom of some design.