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When, after a long absence, she reappeared in the drawing-room, she had forgotten to bring the brandy, and wore a look as guilty as her husband’s. So they sat together and talked in the twilight on trivial matters; and each had a heart insufferably burdened, and each was waiting desperately for an opportunity to lighten it.

“John,” said Mrs. Jago at last, “we are getting poor company for each other.

“Maria!”

The doctor leapt to his feet: and these old souls, who knew each other so passing well, looked into each other’s eyes, half in terror.

At that instant a feeble wail smote on their ears. It came from the cupboard underneath the stairs.

“Maria! I put it there myself, two hours ago. I picked it up on the downs. I’ve been–“

“You! I thought it was some beggar-woman’s doing. John, John–why didn’t you say so before!”

And she rushed out of the room.

This seedy scamp who reclined beside me was the child that she brought back with her from the little cupboard. They had adopted him, fed him, educated him, wrapped him round with love; and he had lived to break their hearts. Possibly there was some gipsy blood in him that defied their nurture. But the speculation is not worth going into. I only know that I felt the better that afternoon as I watched his figure diminishing on the road back to Drakeport. He had a crown of mine in his pocket, and was still singing–

“Ho! just loosen the rope,
If it’s only just for a while;
I fancy I see my father coming
Across from yonder stile.”

I had lied in telling him that the old doctor was dead. As a matter of fact he lay dying that afternoon. Half-way down the hill I saw the small figure of Jacobs, the sexton, turn in at the church-gate. He was going to toll the passing-bell.