3. DECEMBER THE SECOND. AFTERNOONWhen Mr. Springrove came from the door of the Rising Sun at the
end of the inquiry, Manston walked by his side as far as the stile
to the park, a distance of about a stone's-throw.
'Ah, Mr. Springrove, this is a sad affair for everybody
concerned.'
'Everybody,' said the old farmer, with deep sadness, ''tis quite
a misery to me. I hardly know how I shall live through each day as
it breaks. I think of the words, "In the morning thou shalt say,
Would God it were even! and at even thou shalt say, Would God it
were morning! for the fear of thine heart wherewith thou shalt
fear, and for the sight of thine eyes which thou shalt see."' His
voice became broken.
'Ah—true. I read Deuteronomy myself,' said Manston.
'But my loss is as nothing to yours,' the
