So the farmer, in one day, found himself alone; his dear lady, his
mother, and his rival were gone. He alone remained, and alone he
remained for the rest of his days. His rival, indeed, came back once now
and then for short periods to his mansion; but his mother never
returned, and died in a few years' time. Then indeed deserted, the
farmer had nothing left but to cultivate, and dwell on, the memory of
the past. He neglected his business, and his farm; he left his house to
take care of itself; the cows wandered away, the horses leaped the
hedges, other people's cattle entered his corn, trampled his wheat, and
fattened on his clover. He did nothing. The hand of man was removed, and
the fields, and the house, and the owner himself, fell to decay.

Years passed, and still it was the same, and thus it was, that when
Bevis and his papa drove up, Bevis was so interested and so inquisitive
about the knocker, which had fallen from the front door. One thing, and
one place only, received the owner's care, and that was the orchard, the
arbour, the magpie's nest, and the footpath that led to the orchard
gate. Everything else fell to ruin, but these were very nearly in the
same state as when the young lady used to come to the orchard daily. For
the old gentleman, as he grew old, and continued to dwell yet more and
more upon the happy days so long gone by, could not believe that she
could be dead, though he himself had outlived the usual span of life.

He was quite certain that she would some day come back, for she had said
so herself; she had said that some day he would know that he had judged
her wrongly, and unless she came back it was not possible for him to
understand. He was, therefore, positively certain that some day she
would come along the old footpath to the gate in the orchard wall, open
it with her duplicate key, walk to the arbour and sit down, and smile at
the magpie's ways. The woodwork of the arbour had of course decayed long
since, but it had been carefully replaced, so that it appeared exactly
the same as when she last sat within it. The coping fell from the
orchard wall, but it was put back; the gate came to pieces, but a new
one was hung in its place.

Kapchack, thus protected, still came to his palace, which had reached an
enormous size from successive additions and annual repairs. As the time
went on people began to talk about Kapchack, and the extraordinary age
to which he had now attained, till, by-and-by