she gasped out, but broke down several times before
she could make her meaning plain. "Is he--is the Squire
dead?--murdered?"

"Too true, Mother! I have just helped to carry the body up to the Hall."

"Oh, oh!" she groaned, rocking herself to and fro in a strange agony; "I
hoped it had been false."

"It is a shocking piece of business--but why should it affect you in
this terrible way?"

"That's what I say," cried Mrs. Jones. "It do seem so strange to us that
she should take on in this here way for a mere stranger."

"Don't ask me any questions, Noah," said my mother, in a low, firm
voice. "I am better now. The sight of you has revived me; and these kind
neighbours may return home."

"At ten o'clock the magistrates meet at the Market Hall to examine the
prisoners," I said, "and I must be there, to make a deposition of what I
know. I can stay with you till then."

"Oh, Noe! thee must tell us all about it!" said Mrs. Smith, who was
dying with curiosity. "How did it come about?"

I was not prepared for this fresh agony; but I saw that there was no
getting rid of our troublesome visitors without endeavouring to satisfy
their insatiable greed for news; and I went through the dreadful task
with more nerve than I expected. My mother listened to the recital with
breathless interest, and the women clung to me with open eyes and mouth,
as if their very life depended upon my words, often interrupting me with
uncouth exclamations of surprise and horror. At length all was told that
I could tell. My mother again broke into passionate tears.

"Poor Mrs. Martin!" she sobbed, "how dreadful it must be to her. I pity
her from my very soul!"

I had never given Martin's unfortunate mother a single thought. I was
not naturally cruel, and this planted a fresh arrow in my heart.

"It is about eight years ago that she lost her husband," said neighbour
Smith. "He died from the bite of a mad dog. He was the 'Squire's
gamekeeper then. Little Sally was not born until five months after her
father's death. I don't know how the widow has contrived to scratch
along, and keep out of the workhouse. But she was always a hard-working
woman. She had no friend like the Squire, to take _her_ by the hand and
give her son a genteel education. She did get along, however, and sent
that Bill to Mr. Bullen's school; but she half starved herself to do
it--and what good? He has been a world of trouble to her, and almost
broke her heart before he run off