"Oh, no, sir; only a woman."

[Illustration: 034.jpg Here is a lady, Counsellor]

"Allow me, madam, by your good leave. Here is a lady, Counsellor, of
great repute in this part of the country, who charges the Doones with
having unjustly slain her husband--"

"Murdered him! murdered him!" cried my mother, "if ever there was a
murder. Oh, sir! oh, sir! you know it."

"The perfect rights and truth of the case is all I wish to know," said
the old man, very loftily: "and justice shall be done, madam."

"Oh, I pray you--pray you, sirs, make no matter of business of it. God
from Heaven, look on me!"

"Put the case," said the Counsellor.

"The case is this," replied Sir Ensor, holding one hand up to mother:
"This lady's worthy husband was slain, it seems, upon his return from
the market at Porlock, no longer ago than last Saturday night. Madam,
amend me if I am wrong."

"No longer, indeed, indeed, sir. Sometimes it seems a twelvemonth, and
sometimes it seems an hour."

"Cite his name," said the Counsellor, with his eyes still rolling
inwards.