Allusion has already been made, and that frequently, to one Widow Coomstock, whose attractions of income, and the ancillary circumstance of an ample though elderly person, had won for her certain admirers more ancient than herself.  Once butt-woman, or sextoness, of Chagford Church, the lady had dwelt alone, as Miss Mary Reed, for fifty-five years—­not because opportunity to change her state was denied her, but owing to the fact that experience of life rendered her averse to all family responsibilities.  Mary Reed had seen her sister, the present Mrs. Hicks, take a husband, had watched the result of that step; and this, with a hundred parallel instances of misery following on matrimony, had determined her against it.  But when old Benjamin Coomstock, the timber merchant and coal-dealer, became a widower, this ripe maiden, long known to him, was approached before his wife’s grave became ready for a stone.  To Chagford’s amazement he so far bemeaned himself as to offer the sextoness his hand, and she accepted it.  Then, left a widow after two years with her husband, Mary Coomstock languished a while, and changed her methods of life somewhat.  The roomy dwelling-house of her late partner became her property and a sufficient income went with it.  Mr. Coomstock’s business had been sold in his lifetime; the money was invested, and its amount no man knew, though rumour, which usually magnifies such matters, spoke of a very handsome figure; and Mrs. Coomstock’s lavish manner of life lent confirmation to the report.  But though mundane affairs had thus progressed with her, the woman’s marriage was responsible for very grave mental and moral deterioration.  Prosperity, and the sudden exchange of a somewhat laborious life for the ease and comfort of independence, played havoc with Widow Coomstock.  She grew lax, gross in habit and mind, self-indulgent, and ill-tempered.  When her husband died her old friends lost sight of her, while only those who had reason to hope for a reward still kept in touch with her, and indeed forced themselves upon her notice.  Everybody predicted she would take another husband; but, though it was now nearly eight years since Mr. Coomstock’s death, his widow still remained one.  Gaffer Lezzard and Billy Blee had long pursued her with varying advantage, and the latter, though his proposals were declined, yet saw in each refusal an indication to encourage future hope.

Now, urged thereto by whispers that Mr. Lezzard had grown the richer by three hundred pounds on the death of a younger brother in Australia, Billy determined upon another attack.  He also was worth something—­less indeed than three hundred pounds; though, seeing that he had been earning reasonably good wages for half a century, the fact argued but poor thrift in Mr. Blee.  Of course Gaffer Lezzard’s alleged legacy could hardly be a sum to count with Mrs. Coomstock, he told himself; yet his rival was a man of wide experience and an oily tongue:  while, apart from any question