he smothered the cry of agony
and horror which at her guardian's callous taunt had risen to her lips.

He had seen and in his heart worshiped her for the heroic effort which
she made to remain outwardly calm, not to betray before a crowd the
agonizing horror, the awful fear and the burning shame which of a truth
would have crushed most women of her tender years. And because he saw
that she did not wish to betray one single thought or emotion, he did
not approach, nor attempt to show the overwhelming sympathy which he
felt.

He knew that any word from him to her would only call forth more
malicious sneers from that strange man, who seemed to be pursuing Lady
Sue and also himself--Lambert--with a tenacious and incomprehensible
hatred.

Richard remained, therefore, beside his dead brother's coffin,
supporting and anon gently raising the old woman from the ground.

Mat--the foreman--had joined his comrades and after a word of
explanation, they once more gathered round the wooden box. Stooping to
their task, their sinews cracking under the effort, the perspiration
streaming from their foreheads, they raised the mortal remains of Adam
Lambert from the ground and hoisted the burden upon their shoulders.

Then they turned into the tiny gate and slowly walked with it along the
little flagged path to the cottage. The men had to stoop as they crossed
the threshold, and the heavy box swayed above their powerful shoulders.

The Quakeress and Richard followed, going within in the wake of the six
men. The parlor was then empty, and thus it was that Adam Lambert
finally came home.

The others--Squire Boatfield and Mistress de Chavasse, Lady Sue and Sir
Marmaduke--had stood aside in the small fore-court, to enable the small
cortege to pass. Directly Richard Lambert and the old woman disappeared
within the gloom of the cottage interior, these four people--each
individually the prey of harrowing thoughts--once more turned their
steps towards the open road.

There was nothing more to be done here at this cottage, where the veil
of mystery which had fallen over the gruesome murder had been so
unexpectedly lifted by a septuagenarian's hand.

CHAPTER XL

EDITHA'S RETURN

Squire Boatfield was vastly perturbed. Never had his position as
magistrate seemed so onerous to him, nor his duties as major-general
quite so arduous. A vague and haunting fear had seized him, a fear
that--if he did do his duty, if he did continue his i