The mocking laugh left Leicester's lips as she spoke: it was impossible
to doubt what she said.

"But there," went on Mrs. Pethick, with all a woman's tact, "you be
could and wisht, you be. I'll git a cup ov tay for 'ee, and zum bread
and craim. You c'n jist raid the paaper while I be gone."

He sat down close by the roaring wood fire, and wondered. Why should
this simple woman's faith be denied to him? He picked up the paper she
had offered him; it was the first he had seen since he left Taviton. The
first words he read were these: "New candidate selected for the Taviton
division."

He read through the article with strange interest. It seemed to him as
though it spoke of some one else. It referred to the unfortunate
selection the party had made, but stated that their mistake had been
rectified in the selection of a local man, whose career was known to
all. "As for the man who has done the party so much harm," concluded the
article, "we do not know what has become of him. He left the town in
disgrace, since which time no one has seen him. Endeavours have been
made to trace his whereabouts, but in vain. Inquiries have been made at
his old haunts in London, but no one has seen him there. It is a sad
pity that a young man of such brilliant parts should end his career in
such a way, but for our own part we may say that we are well rid of him.
He brought no honour, or credit, either to our party or our county, and
although some of his friends speak of him as having suicidal tendencies,
we sincerely hope that he may repent of his past life, and begin anew in
another country where he is unknown."

Leicester threw down the paper with a laugh. It was only the effusion of
a local journalist who did not know the A B C of his trade, but it
amused him.

"Begin a new life in another country where he is unknown." The words
haunted him. Why not, after all? Perhaps--but the thoughts which flashed
into his mind refused to take definite shape.

Mrs. Pethick brought him some tea and bread and cream.

"Ther' now, you be nearly dry now," she said; "zet up to the table, and
'ave zum tay. 'Twill do 'ee good, my dear."

Mrs. Pethick had spent her childhood in Cornwall, and had not forgotten
some of the Cornish expressions.

"This is beautiful tea," said Leicester presently.

"Iss, ted'n zo bad. As Mrs. Maddern d' zay to me, 'Mrs. Pethick,' she do
zay, 'nobody but you do buy the best tay.'"

"Mrs. Pethick," said Leicester, half qui