It was over at last, and the hall of justice broke up.  Mary Morris was at once in her mother’s arms, and in a few minutes more making up for all past privations by a substantial meal in the kitchen.  But Mrs. Kelland had gone to Avoncester to purchase thread, and only her daughter Susan had come up, the girl who was supposed to be a sort of spider, with no capacities beyond her web.  Nor did Rachel think Lovedy capable of walking down to Mackarel Lane, nor well enough for the comfortless chairs and the third part of a bed.  No, Mr. Grey’s words that Rachel was accountable for the children’s sufferings had gone to her heart.  Pity was there and indignation, but these had brought such an anguish of self-accusation as she could only appease by lavishing personal care upon the chief sufferer.  She carried the child to her own sitting-room and made a couch for her before the fire, sending Susan away with the assurance that Lovedy should stay at the Homestead, and be nursed and fed till she was well and strong again.  Fanny, who had accompanied her, thought the child very ill, and was urgent that the doctor should be sent for; but between Rachel and the faculty of Avonmouth there was a deadly feud, and the proposal was scouted.  Hunger and a bad cold were easily treated, and maybe there was a spark of consolation in having a patient all to herself and her homoeopathic book.

So Fanny and her two boys walked down the hill together in the dark.  Colonel Keith and Alison Williams had already taken the same road, anxiously discussing the future.  Alison asked why Colin had not given Mauleverer’s alias.  “I had no proof,” he said.  “You were sure of the woman, but so far it is only guess work with him; though each time Rose spoke of seeing Maddox coincided with one of Mauleverer’s visits.  Besides, Alison, on the back of that etching in Rose’s book is written, Mrs. Williams, from her humble and obliged servant, R. Maddox.’”

“And you said nothing about it?”

“No, I wished to make myself secure, and to see my way before speaking out.”

“What shall you do?  Can you trust to Rose’s identifying him?”

“I shall ride in to-morrow to see what is going on, and judge if it will be well to let her see this man, if he have not gone off, as I should fear was only too likely.  Poor little Lady Temple, her exploit has precipitated matters.”

“And you will let every one, Dr. Long and all, know what a wretch they have believed.  And then—­”

“Stay, Alison, I am afraid they will not take Maddox’s subsequent guilt as a proof of Edward’s innocence.”

“It is a proof that his stories were not worth credit.”

“To you and me it is, who do not need such proof.  It is possible that among his papers something may be found that may implicate him and clear Edward, but we can only hold off and watch.  And I greatly fear both man and woman will have slipped through our fingers, especially if she knew you.”