“That’s just what I came to myself, sir, turning the thing over in my old head.  But there’s dreadful things done in the world, sir.  There’s my daughter been a-telling of me—­”

I was instantly breathless attention.  What he chose to tell me I felt at liberty to hear, though I would not have listened to Jane herself.—­I must here mention that she and Richard were not yet married, old Mr Brownrigg not having yet consented to any day his son wished to fix; and that she was, therefore, still in her place of attendance upon Miss Oldcastle.

“—­There’s been my daughter a-telling of me,” said Rogers, “that the old lady up at the Hall there is tormenting the life out of that daughter of hers—­she don’t look much like hers, do she, sir?—­wanting to make her marry a man of her choosing.  I saw him go past o’ horseback with her yesterday, and I didn’t more than half like the looks on him.  He’s too like a fair-spoken captain I sailed with once, what was the hardest man I ever sailed with.  His own way was everything, even after he saw it wouldn’t do.  Now, don’t you think, sir, somebody or other ought to interfere?  It’s as bad as murder that, and anybody has a right to do summat to perwent it.”

“I don’t know what can be done, Rogers.  I can’t interfere.”

The old man was silent.  Evidently he thought I might interfere if I pleased.  I could see what he was thinking.  Possibly his daughter had told him something more than he chose to communicate to me.  I could not help suspecting the mode in which he judged I might interfere.  But I could see no likelihood before me but that of confusion and precipitation.  In a word, I had not a plain path to follow.

“Old Rogers,” I said, “I can almost guess what you mean.  But I am in more difficulty with regard to what you suggest than I can easily explain to you.  I need not tell you, however, that I will turn the whole matter over in my mind.”

“The prey ought to be taken from the lion somehow, if it please God,” returned the old man solemnly.  “The poor young lady keeps up as well as she can before her mother; but Jane do say there’s a power o’ crying done in her own room.”

Partly to hide my emotion, partly with the sudden resolve to do something, if anything could be done, I said:—­

“I will call on Mr Stoddart this evening.  I may hear something from him to suggest a mode of action.”

“I don’t think you’ll get anything worth while from Mr Stoddart.  He takes things a deal too easy like.  He’ll be this man’s man and that man’s man both at oncet.  I beg your pardon, sir.  But he won’t help us.”

“That’s all I can think of at present, though,” I said; whereupon the man-of-war’s man, with true breeding, rose at once, and took a kindly leave.