rrest on the charge of wife-murder--that was the exaggerated
shape in which it first reached the village--was a terrible blow to poor
Aunt Bessy. She was struck down by paralysis, and had to keep to her bed
for many weeks, and even now she had only the partial use of her limbs.
Mrs. Chigwin, buckling to her new task with heroic cheerfulness, had
nursed and comforted her and lightened the burden of her life so far as
that was possible. As soon as the cripple could be dressed and moved
about, she had bought for her a light basket-chair, into which she used
to lift her bodily. Whenever the weather was fine enough she would wheel
her into the garden; and she won the first apology for a laugh from Mrs.
Bundlecombe when, having drawn her on the grass and settled her
comfortably, she said,

"Now, Bessy, I have repotted you and put you in the sun on the same day
as my balsams, and I shall expect you to be ready for planting out as
soon as they are."

But that was too sanguine a hope, for Mrs. Bundlecombe was still in her
chair, and there was not much chance of her ever being able to walk
again. As it had been impossible for her to go and see her nephew,
either before his trial or since, Mrs. Chigwin had written a letter for
her, entreating Alan to come to Birchmead as soon as he was free; and
the writer assured him on her own account that there was not a better
place in England for quiet rest and consolation. They heard from the
prison authorities that the letter had been received, and that it would
be given to the prisoner; and now Aunt Bessy was counting the days until
his time had expired.

There had been other changes at Birchmead in the course of the year.
Mrs. Harrington no longer occupied the adjoining cottage, but lay at
peace in the churchyard at Thorley. Her grand-daughter had written once
to the old ladies from London, according to her promise; after which
they had heard of her no more, although they sent her word of her
grandmother's death, to the address which she had given them.

The sun was sinking low in the sky, and it was time for Mrs. Bundlecombe
to be taken indoors. So Martha Chigwin wheeled her into the house,
rapidly undressed her, and lifted her into bed. Then there was a chapter
to be read aloud, and joint prayers to be repeated, and supper to be
prepared; and Mrs. Chigwin had just made the two cups of gruel which
represented the last duty of her busy day's routine, when she heard a
noise of wheels o