re of William Farrell and his sister, by the
young husband whose gallant death was officially presumed by the War
Office. Of course, Mrs. Sarratt, poor child, believed that he was still
alive--that was so natural! But that hope would die down in time. And
then--anything might happen!

Meanwhile, elderly husbands--the sole male inhabitants left in the
gentry houses of the district--who possessed any legal knowledge,
informed their wives that no one could legally presume the death of a
vanished husband, under seven years, unless indeed they happen to have a
Scotch domicile, in which case two years was enough. _Seven
years_!--preposterous!--in time of war, said the wives. To which the
husbands would easily reply that, in such cases as Mrs. Sarratt's, the
law indeed might be 'an ass,' but there were ways round it. Mrs. Sarratt
might re-marry, and no one could object, or would object. Only--if
Sarratt did rise from the dead, the second marriage would be _ipso
facto_ null and void. But as Sarratt was clearly dead, what did that
matter?

So that the situation, though an observed one--for how could the Farrell
comings and goings, the Farrell courtesies and benefactions, possibly be
hid?--was watched only by friendly and discreet eyes, thanks always to
Hester. Most people liked William Farrell; even that stricter sect, who
before the war had regarded him as a pleasure loving dilettante, and had
been often scandalised by his careless levity in the matter of his
duties as a landlord and county magnate. 'Bill Farrell' had never indeed
evicted or dealt hardly with any mortal tenant. He had merely neglected
and ignored them; had cared not a brass farthing about the rates which
he or they, paid--why should he indeed, when he was so abominably rich
from other sources than land?--nothing about improving their cows, or
sheep or pigs; nothing about 'intensive culture,' or jam or poultry, or
any of the other fads with which the persons who don't farm plague the
persons who do; while the very mention of a public meeting, or any sort
of public duty, put him to instant flight. Yet even the faddists met him
with pleasure, and parted from him with regret. He took himself 'so
jolly lightly'; you couldn't expect him to take other people seriously.
Meanwhile, his genial cheery manner made him a general favourite, and
his splendid presence, combined with his possessions and his descent,
was universally accepted as a kind of Cumberland asset, to wh