t extent of her obligations. This
dwelling-house, for instance, is mortgaged to her medical man, Doctor
Parsons, of Chagford. There is barely money to meet the debts. Some
fifty or sixty pounds in my hands will be absorbed by the calls of the
estate. Mrs. Lezzard's tastes--I sorrow to say it--were expensive in
some directions. There is an item of ten pounds twelve shillings
for--for brandy, if I may be pardoned for speaking plainly. The funeral
also appears to have been conducted on a scale more lavish than
circumstances warranted. However, there should be sufficient to defray
the cost, and I am sure nobody will blame Mr. Hicks for showing this
last respect to an amiable if eccentric woman. There is nothing to add
except that I shall be delighted to answer any questions--any questions
at all."

A few moments later, the lawyer mounted his dog-cart and rattled off to
enjoy a pleasant drive homeward.

Then the company spoke its mind, and Mary Lezzard's clay might well have
turned under that bitter hornet-buzz of vituperation. Some said little,
but had not strength or self-command to hide tears; some cursed and
swore. Mr. Lezzard wept unheeded; Mrs. Hicks likewise wept. Clement sat
staring into the flushed faces and angry eyes, neither seeing the rage
manifested before him, nor hearing the coarse volleys of reproach. Then
in his turn he attracted attention; and hard words, wasted on the dead,
hurtled like hail round his ears, with acid laughter, and bitter sneers
at his own tremendous awakening. Stung to the quick, the lame
wheelwright, Charles Coomstock, gloated on the spectacle of Clement's
dark hour, and heaped abuse upon his round-eyed, miserable mother. The
raw of his own wound found a sort of salve in this attack; and all the
other poor, coarse creatures similarly found comfort in their
disappointment from a sight of more terrific mortification than their
own. Venomous utterances fell about Clement Hicks, but he neither heard
nor heeded: his mind was far away with Chris, and the small shot of the
Coomstocks and the thunder of the Chowns alike flew harmlessly past him.
He saw his sweetheart's sorrow, and her grief, as yet unborn, was the
only fact that much hurt him now. The gall in his own soul only began to
sicken him when his eye rested on his mother. Then he rose and departed
to his home, while the little, snuffling woman ran at his heels, like a
dog.

Not until he had escaped the tempest of voices, and was hidd