Ernest knew him in a moment as John, his father's
old coachman at Battersby, and went up to him at once.
"Why, Master Ernest," said he, with his strong northern accent, "I
was thinking of you only this very morning," and the pair shook
hands heartily. John was in an excellent place at the West End. He had
done very well, he said, ever since he had left Battersby, except
for the first year or two, and that, he said, with a screw of the
face, had well nigh broke him.
Ernest asked how this was.
"Why, you see," said "I was always main fond of that lass Ellen,
whom you remember running after, Master Ernest, and giving your
watch to. I expect you haven't forgotten that day, have you?" And here
he laughed. "I don't know as I be the father of the child she
carried away with her from Battersby, but I very easily may have been.
Anyhow, after I had left your papa's place a few days I wrote to Ellen
to an address we had agreed upon, and told her I would do what I ought
to do, and so I did, for I married her within a month afterwards. Why,
Lord love the man, whatever is the matter with him?"- for as he had
spoken the last few words of his story Ernest had turned white as a
sheet, and was leaning against the railings.
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