s depths, but
beyond the facts disclosed by Mrs. Billing everything was surmise and
regret; the personality of the late Edward Shafto, though slightly
known, was much respected. "He was a gentleman"--the statement implied
a left-handed compliment to his wife--"and his purse was ever open to
the poor; it was said that he was a secret benefactor to various aged
people, and to the local charities."

As the Misses Tebbs sat at supper the following night--a frugal meal of
cocoa and bread and butter--Eliza tramped in, still wearing her hat; it
had been her afternoon out. She seemed to be a little breathless, and
was undoubtedly charged with some weighty intelligence.

"Well, Eliza, what is it?" eagerly inquired Miss Tebbs.

"I just thought I'd step over to 'Littlecote' this evening, and see
Hannah." Oh, priceless handmaiden!

"Yes--and what did she tell you?"

Eliza placed her hands on her hips--invariable preliminary to an
important announcement. "She took me to see the corpse; he looked
beautiful, just like a marble statue; and there in front of the dead,
what do you think Hannah told me? That Mrs. Shafto had _killed_ him!"
She paused to contemplate the effect of this statement. "Yes, his
heart was always weak, he couldn't stand no shocks, and when he come
back wore out from London, and told her as how he was ruined, the
screams of that woman was enough to bring the house down! Hannah ran
in and there was he, lying back in a chair, and she standing over him
with a face all worked up, and her hands clenched, shouting at him that
it was all through his lunacy and laziness they were beggared--and she
wished he was _dead_. I couldn't tell you all the awful things she
said, but he fainted right away and never come to again. Now, what do
you say to that?" and she surveyed her audience judicially.

The sisters remained dumb; for once, speech had failed them.

"As for caring," continued Eliza, "Mrs. Shafto doesn't feel no more
than this table," rapping it with her bony knuckles; "all she minds is
about _the money_--and already they say she has been routing among his
papers, searching for his bank book. Oh! she is an awful woman, her
heart is just a stone. As for poor Master Douglas, now there's real
grief! He hasn't tasted a bite or sup, and he looks crushed. Everyone
in the place will be sorry for him and for his father; but as far as
Mrs. Shafto is concerned, when she's paid off the money she owes--the
sooner