er alike deserting her, she
fell into a chair and cried so long and so heartily that at last, worn
out with her grief, she fell asleep.

CHAPTER IX.

The church-bells made a pleasant music in Hey-don Hay on Sunday
mornings, and were naturally at their best upon a summer Sunday, when
the sunshine had thrown itself broadly down to sleep about the
tranquil fields. Heydon Hay was undisturbed by the presence of a single
conventicle in opposition to the parish church, and the leisurely
figures in the fields and lanes and in the village street were all bent
one way. In fine weather the worshippers were for the most part a little
in advance of time, and thereby found opportunity to gather in knots
about the lich-gate, or between it and the porch, where they exchanged
observations on secular affairs with a tone and manner dimly tempered by
the presence of the church.

Half a dozen people in voluminous broadcloth were already gathered about
the lich-gate when Fuller appeared, carrying his portly waistcoat with
a waddle of good-humored dignity, and mopping at his forehead. He was
followed by a small boy, who with some difficulty carried the 'cello in
a big green baize bag. One or two of the loungers at the gate carried
smaller green bags, and while they and Fuller exchanged greetings,
Sennacherib and Isaiah appeared in different directions, each with a
baize-clothed fiddle tucked beneath his arm. The church of Heydon Hay
boasted a string band of such excellence that on special occasions
people flocked from all the surrounding parishes to listen to its
performances. The members of the band and choir held themselves rather
apart from other church-goers, like men who had special dignities and
special interests. They had their fringe of lay admirers, who listened
to their discussions on "that theer hef sharp," which ought to have
sounded, or ought not to have sounded, in last Sunday's anthem.

Whether his lordship made a point of it or not, the Barfield carriage
was always a little late, and Ferdinand certainly approved of the habit;
but on this particular morning the young gentleman was earlier than
common and arrived on foot. The male villagers took off their hats as he
walked leisurely along, the female villagers bobbed courtesies at him,
and the children raced before him to do him a sort of processional
reverence. This simple incense was pleasant enough, for he had spent
most of his time in larger places than Heydon Hay,