Hish!'
She paused a second, looking askance, in the direction where she fancied
Mary Quince was. Then she resumed in a whisper--
'Now, lass, mind ye, ye'll keep what I say to yourself. You're not to tell
that un nor any other for your life, mind, a word o' what I'm goin' to tell
ye.'
'I'll not say a word. Go on.'
'Did ye see Dudley?'
'I think I saw him getting up the ladder.'
'In the mill? Ha! that's him. He never went beyond Todcaster. He staid in
Feltram after.'
It was my turn to look pale now. My worst conjecture was established.
CHAPTER LVI
_I CONSPIRE_
'That's a bad un, he is--oh, Miss, Miss Maud! It's nout that's good as
keeps him an' fayther--(mind, lass, ye promised you would not tell no
one)--as keeps them two a-talkin' and a-smokin' secret-like together in the
mill. An' fayther don't know I found him out. They don't let me into the
town, but Brice tells me, and he knows it's Dudley; and it's nout that's
good, but summat very bad. An' I reckon, Miss, it's all about you. Be ye
frightened, Miss Maud?'
I felt on the point of fainting, but I rallied.
'Not much, Meg.
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