"`The Lord God hath wiped away all tears from
her eyes.'"

"The Lord look upon it, and avenge her!" was the answer, in Tabitha's
sternest and most solemn voice. "The Lord requite it on the head of
Edward Benden, and on the head of Richard Thornton! Wherefore doth He
not rend the heavens and come down? Wherefore--" and as suddenly as
before, Tabitha broke down, and cried her heart out as Banks had never
imagined Tabitha Hall could do.

Banks did not attempt to reprove her. It was useless. He only said
quietly, "Forgive me to leave you thus, but I must be on my way, for my
tidings must yet be told six times, and there be some hearts will break
to hear them."

"I'll spare you one," said Tabitha, as well as she could speak. "You
may let be Roger Hall. I'll tell him."

Banks drew a long breath. Could he trust this strange, satirical, yet
warm-hearted woman to tell those tidings in that house of all others?
And the white lace, which the gaoler, knowing him to be a Staplehurst
man, had entrusted to him to give, could he leave it with her?

"Nay, not so, I pray you, and thank you, Mistress. I have an especial
message and token for Master Hall. But if you would of your goodness
let Mistress Final's childre know thereof, that should do me an
easement, for the White Hart is most out of my way."

"So be it, Jack, and God speed thee!"

Turning away from Seven Roods, Banks did his terrible errand to the six
houses. It was easiest at Fishcock's, where the relatives were somewhat
more distant than at the rest; but hard to tell Nicholas White's
grey-haired wife that she was a widow, hard to tell Emmet Wilson's
husband that he had no more a wife; specially hard at Collet Pardue's
cottage, where the news meant not only sorrow but worldly ruin, so far
as mortal eye might see. Then he turned off to Briton's Mead, and told
Mary, whose tears flowed fast.

"Will you speak to _him_?" she said, in an awed tone.

"No!" said Banks, almost sternly. "At the least--what doth he?"

"Scarce eats a morsel, and his bed's all awry in the morning, as if he'd
done nought but toss about all the night; I think he sleeps none, or
very nigh. I never speak to him without he first doth, and that's
mighty seldom."

Banks hesitated a moment. Then he went forward, and opened the door of
the dining-room.

"Mr Benden!" he said.

The room was in semi-darkness, having no light but that of the moon, and
Banks could see only just enough to