utenant Vannicock told him to wait a few minutes, and the last barrow-
load was got through. Mr. Maumbry stretched himself and breathed
heavily, saying, 'There; we can do no more.'

As if from the relaxation of effort he seemed to be seized with violent
pain. He pressed his hands to his sides and bent forward.

'Ah! I think it has got hold of me at last,' he said with difficulty. 'I
must try to get home. Let Mr. Vannicock take you back, Laura.'

He walked a few steps, they helping him, but was obliged to sink down on
the grass.

'I am--afraid--you'll have to send for a hurdle, or shutter, or
something,' he went on feebly, 'or try to get me into the barrow.'

But Vannicock had called to the driver of the fly, and they waited until
it was brought on from the turnpike hard by. Mr. Maumbry was placed
therein. Laura entered with him, and they drove to his humble residence
near the Cross, where he was got upstairs.

Vannicock stood outside by the empty fly awhile, but Laura did not
reappear. He thereupon entered the fly and told the driver to take him
back to Ivell.

CHAPTER VII

Mr. Maumbry had over-exerted himself in the relief of the suffering poor,
and fell a victim--one of the last--to the pestilence which had carried
off so many. Two days later he lay in his coffin.

Laura was in the room below. A servant brought in some letters, and she
glanced them over. One was the note from herself to Maumbry, informing
him that she was unable to endure life with him any longer and was about
to elope with Vannicock. Having read the letter she took it upstairs to
where the dead man was, and slipped it into his coffin. The next day she
buried him.

She was now free.

She shut up his house at Durnover Cross and returned to her lodgings at
Creston. Soon she had a letter from Vannicock, and six weeks after her
husband's death her lover came to see her.

'I forgot to give you back this--that night,' he said presently, handing
her the little bag she had taken as her whole luggage when leaving.

Laura received it and absently shook it out. There fell upon the carpet
her brush, comb, slippers, nightdress, and other simple necessaries for a
journey. They had an intolerably ghastly look now, and she tried to
cover them.

'I can now,' he said, 'ask you to belong to me legally--when a proper
interval has gone--instead of as we meant.'

There was languor in his utterance, hinting at a possibility that it wa