Had the will fallen in the same way?  Adela conjectured that thus it had been lost, though when or under what circumstances she could not imagine.  We, who are calmer, may conceive the old man to have taken his will to church with him on the morning of his death, he being then greatly troubled about the changes he had in view.  Perhaps he laid the folded parchment on the shelf and rested one of the large books in front of it.  He breathed his last.  Then the old woman, whose duty it was to put the pews in order, hurriedly throwing the books into the cupboard as soon as the dead man was removed, perchance pushed the document so far back that it slipped through the gap and down behind the buffets.

At all events, no one has ever hit upon a likelier explanation.

CHAPTER XXIV

She could not sit through the service, yet to leave the church she would have to walk the whole length of the aisle.  What did it matter?  It would very soon be known why she had gone away, and to face for a moment the wonder of Sunday-clad villagers is not a grave trial.  Adela opened the pew door and quitted the church, the parchment held beneath her mantle.

As she issued from the porch the sun smote warm upon her face; it encouraged a feeling of gladness which had followed her astonishment.  She had discovered the tenor of the will; it affected her with a sudden joy, undisturbed at first by any reflection.  The thought of self was slow in coming, and had not power to trouble her greatly even when she faced it.  Befall herself what might, she held against her heart a power which was the utmost limit of that heart’s desire.  So vast, so undreamt, so mysteriously given to her, that it seemed preternatural.  Her weakness was become strength; with a single word she could work changes such as it had seemed no human agency could bring about.

To her, to her it had been given!  What was all her suffering, crowned with power like this?

She durst not take the will from beneath her mantle, though burning to reassure herself of its contents.  Not till she was locked in her room.  If any one met her as she entered the house, her excuse would be that she did not feel well.

But as she hurried toward the Manor, she all at once found herself face to face with her brother.  Alfred was having a ramble, rather glad to get out of hearing of the baby this Sunday morning.

‘Hollo, what’s up?’ was his exclamation.

Adela feared lest her face had betrayed her.  She was conscious that her look could not be that of illness.

‘I am obliged to go home,’ she said, ‘I have forgotten something.’

’I should have thought you’d rather have let the house burn down than scutter away in this profane fashion.  All right, I won’t stop you.’

She hesitated, tempted to give some hint.  But before she could speak, Alfred continued: