, who had spoken no word during
this scene.

"Much may come of this," she said. "God works in mysterious ways. I have
no fear that Raymond will fail in his duty to dear Daniel at such a
time. Come back early to-morrow, Sabina. I shall get a telegram, as soon
as Raymond can despatch it, and shall hold myself in readiness to go at
once and stop with Daniel. Tell Mister Churchouse what has happened."

The lady spent the night in packing. Her sufferings and anxieties were
allayed by occupation; but the long hours seemed unending.

She was ready to start at dawn, but not until ten o'clock came the news
from York. Mr. Churchouse was already with her when the telegram
arrived. He had driven from Bridetown with Sabina. Daniel Ironsyde was
dead and had passed many hours before Raymond reached him.

Sabina went home on hearing this news, and Ernest Churchouse remained
with Miss Ironsyde.

She was prostrated and, for a time, he could not comfort her. But the
practical nature of her mind asserted itself between gusts of grief. She
despatched a telegram to Raymond at York, and begged him to bring back
his brother's body as soon as it might be done. Concerning the future
she also spoke to Ernest.

"He has made no will," she said, "That I know, because when last we
were speaking of Raymond, he told me he felt it impossible at present to
do so."

"Then the whole estate belongs to Raymond, now?" he asked.

"Yes, everything is his."

CHAPTER XXIII

A LETTER FOR SABINA

A human machine, under stress of personal tribulation and lowered
vitality, had erred in a signal box five miles from York, with the
result that several of his fellow creatures were killed and many
injured. Daniel Ironsyde had only lived long enough to direct the
telegram to his home.

Three days later Raymond returned with the body, and once more Bridetown
crowded to its windows and open spaces, to see the funeral of another
master of the Mill.

To an onlooker the scene might have appeared a repetition in almost
every particular of Henry Ironsyde's obsequies.

The spinners crowded on the grassy triangle under the sycamore tree and
debated their future. They wondered whether Raymond would come to the
funeral; and a new note entered into all voices when they spoke his
name, for he was master now. Mr. Churchouse attended the burial, and
Arthur Waldron walked down from North Hill House with his daughter. In
the churchyard, where Daniel's grave waite