"We couldn't?"

"No. Just dry up your useless tears, Nancy; and try to think that all's
for the best."

But, metaphorically speaking, Mrs. Gum could not dry her tears. Nearly
two years had elapsed since the fatal event; and though she no longer
openly lamented, filling Calne with her cries and her faint but heartfelt
prayers for vengeance on the head of the cruel monster, George Gordon, as
she used to do at first, she had sunk into a despairing state of mind
that was by no means desirable: a startled, timid, superstitious woman,
frightened at every shadow.




CHAPTER III.

ANNE ASHTON.


Jabez Gum came out of his house in the bright summer morning, missing Mr.
Elster by one minute only. He went round to a small shed at the back of
the house and brought forth sundry garden-tools. The whole garden was
kept in order by himself, and no one had finer fruit and vegetables than
Clerk Gum. Hartledon might have been proud of them, and Dr. Ashton
sometimes accepted a dish with pleasure.

In his present attire: dark trousers, and a short close jacket buttoned
up round him and generally worn when gardening, the worthy man might