Alone with Ellen, sly Mrs. Tadman took occasion to launch out into enthusiastic praises of her cousin; to which the girl listened in profound silence, closely watched all the time by the woman’s sharp gray eyes.  And then by degrees her tone changed ever so little, and she owned that her kinsman was not altogether faultless; indeed it was curious to perceive what numerous shortcomings were coexistent with those shining merits of his.

“He has been a good friend to me,” continued the matron; “that I never have denied and never shall deny.  But I have been a good servant to him; ah! there isn’t a hired servant as would toil and drudge, and watch and pinch, as I have done to please him, and never have had payment from him more than a new gown at Christmas, or a five-pound note after harvest.  And of course, if ever he marries, I shall have to look for a new home; for I know too much of his ways, I daresay, for a wife to like to have me about her—­and me of an age when it seem a hard to have to go among strangers—­and not having saved sixpence, where I might have put by a hundred pounds easy, if I hadn’t been working without wages for a relation.  But I’ve not been called a servant, you see; and I suppose Stephen thinks that’s payment enough for my trouble.  Goodness knows I’ve saved him many a pound, and that he’ll know when I’m gone; for he’s near, is Stephen, and it goes to his heart to part with a shilling.”

“But why should you ever leave him, Mrs. Tadman?” Ellen asked kindly.  “I shouldn’t think he could have a better housekeeper.”

“Perhaps not,” answered the widow, shaking her head with mysterious significance; “but his wife won’t think that; and when he’s got a wife he’ll want her to be his housekeeper, and to pinch and scrape as I’ve pinched and scraped for him.  Lord help her!” concluded Mrs. Tadman, with a faint groan, which was far from complimentary to her relative’s character.

“But perhaps he never will marry,” argued Ellen coolly.

“O, yes, he will, Miss Carley,” replied Mrs. Tadman, with another significant movement of her head; “he’s set his heart on that, and he’s set his heart on the young woman he means to marry.”

“He can’t marry her unless she’s willing to be his wife, any how,” said Ellen, reddening a little.

“O, he’ll find a way to make her consent, Miss Carley, depend upon that.  Whatever Stephen Whitelaw sets his mind upon, he’ll do.  But I don’t envy that poor young woman; for she’ll have a hard life of it at Wyncomb, and a hard master in my cousin Stephen.”

“She must be a very weak-minded young woman if she marries him against her will,” Ellen said laughing; and then ran off to get the tea ready, leaving Mrs. Tadman to her meditations, which were not of a lively nature at the best of times.