A hideous eight-and-forty hours followed.  The preachers and class-leaders came to pray over the dying woman:  but she screamed to Grace to send them away.  She had just sense enough left to dread that she might betray her own shame.  Would she have the new clergyman then?  No; she would have no one;—­no one could help her!  Let her only die in peace!

And Grace closed the door upon all but the doctor, who treated the wild sufferer’s wild words as the mere fancies of delirium; and then Grace watched and prayed, till she found herself alone with the dead.

She wrote a letter to Thurnall—­

“Sir—­I have found your belt, and all the money, I believe and trust, which it contained.  If you will be so kind as to tell me where and how I shall send it to you, you will take a heavy burden off the mind of

“Your obedient humble Servant, who trusts that you will forgive her having been unable to fulfil her promise.”

She addressed the letter to Whitbury; for thither Tom had ordered his letters to be sent; but she received no answer.

The day after Mrs. Harvey was buried, the sale of all her effects was announced in Aberalva.

Grace received the proceeds, went round to all the creditors, and paid them all which was due.  She had a few pounds left.  What to do with that she knew full well.

She showed no sign of sorrow:  but she spoke rarely to any one.  A dead dull weight seemed to hang over her.  To preachers, class-leaders, gossips, who upbraided her for not letting them see her mother, she replied by silence.  People thought her becoming idiotic.

The day after the last creditor was paid she packed up her little box:  hired a cart to take her to the nearest coach; and vanished from Aberalva, without bidding farewell to a human being, even to her School-children.

* * * * *

Vavasour had been buried more than a week.  Mark and Mary were sitting in the dining-room, Mark at his port and Mary at her work, when the footboy entered.

“Sir, there’s a young woman wants to speak with you.”

“Show her in, if she looks respectable,” said Mark, who had slippers on, and his feet on the fender, and was, therefore, loth to move.

“Oh, quite respectable, sir, as ever I see;” and the lad ushered in a figure, dressed and veiled in deep black.

“Well, ma’am, sit down, pray; and what can I do for you!”

“Can you tell me, sir,” answered a voice of extraordinary sweetness and gentleness, very firm, and composed withal, “if Mr. Thomas Thurnall is in Whitbury?”

“Thurnall?  He has sailed for the East a week ago.  May I ask your business with him?  Can I help you in it?”

The black damsel paused so long, that both Mary and her father felt uneasy, and a cloud passed over Mark’s brow.

“Can the boy have been playing tricks?” said he to himself.