the old
Quakeress thus have parted from the dead body of her lad.

Richard Lambert had begged that the coffin might be taken into the
cottage. The old woman's co-religionists would help her to obtain for
Adam fitting and Christian burial.

After Sir Marmaduke's sneering taunt no one had spoken. For these yokels
and their womenfolk the matter had passed altogether beyond their ken.
Bewildered, not understanding, above all more than half fearful, they
consulted one another vaguely and mutely with eyes and quaint expressive
gestures, wondering what had best be done.

'Twas fortunate that the rain had ceased. One by one the women, still
holding their kirtles tightly round their shoulders, began to move away.
The deal box seemed to have reached a degree of mystery from which 'twas
best to keep at a distance. The men, too--those who had come as
spectators--were gradually edging away; some walked off with their
womenfolk, others hung back in groups of three or four discussing the
most hospitable place to which 'twere best to adjourn.

All wore a strangely shamed expression of timidity--almost of
self-deprecation, as if apologetic for their presence here when the
quality had matters of such grave import to discuss. No one had really
understood Sir Marmaduke's sneering taunt, only they felt instinctively
that there were some secrets which it had been disrespectful even to
attempt to guess.

Those who had been prepared to carry the coffin to Minster were the last
to hang back. Squire Boatfield was obviously giving some directions to
their foreman, Mat, who tugged at his forelock at intervals, indicating
that he was prepared to obey. The others stood aside waiting for
instructions.

Thus the deal box remained on the ground, exactly opposite the tiny
wooden gate, strangely isolated and neglected-looking after the
dispersal of the interested crowd which had surrounded it awhile ago. It
seemed as if with the establishment of the real identity of the dead the
intensity of the excitement had vanished. The mysterious foreigner had a
small court round him; Adam Lambert, only his brother and the old
Quakeress.

They remained beside the coffin, she kneeling with her head buried in
her wrinkled hands, he standing silent and passionately wrathful both
against one man and against destiny. He had almost screamed with horror
when de Chavasse thus brutally uttered Lady Sue's name: he had seen the
young girl almost sway on her feet, as s