Lady Ushant and Mr. Masters went
back to Dillsborough in Runciman's fly, and it need hardly be said
that the attorney said nothing of the business which had taken him
to Bragton.
This happened on a Wednesday,--Wednesday the 3rd of March. On
Friday morning, at 4 o'clock, during the darkness of the night,
John Morton was lying dead on his bed, and the old woman was at his
bedside. She had done her duty by him as far as she knew how in
tending him, had been assiduous with the diligence of much younger
years; but now as she sat there, having had the fact absolutely
announced to her by Dr. Nupper, her greatest agony arose from the
feeling that the roof which covered her, probably the chair in
which she sat, were the property of Reginald Morton--"Bastard!" she
said to herself between her teeth; but she so said it that neither
Dr. Nupper, who was in the room, nor the woman who was with her
should hear it.
Dr. Nupper took the news into Dillsborough, and as the folk sat
down to breakfast they all heard that the Squire of Bragton was
dead. The man had been too little known, had been too short a time
in the neighbourhood, to give occasion for tears. There was
certainly more of interest than of grief in the matter. Mr. Masters
said to himself that the time had been too short for any change in
the will, and therefore felt tolerably certain that Reginald would
be the heir.
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