They left him undisturbed, and passed out at the wicket-gate. The waterwheel of the paper-mill was audible there, and seemed to have a softening influence on the bright wintry scene. They had arrived but a little while before, and Lizzie Hexam now told them the little she could add to the letter in which she had enclosed Mr. Rokesmith’s letter and had asked for their instructions. This was merely how she had heard the groan, and what had afterwards passed, and how she had obtained leave for the remains to be placed in that sweet, fresh, empty storeroom of the mill from which they had just accompanied them to the churchyard, and how the last requests had been religiously observed.

“I could not have done it all, or nearly all, of myself,” said Lizzie. “I should not have wanted the will; but I should not have had the power, without our managing partner.”

“Surely not the Jew who received us?” said Mrs. Milvey.