Mary got up and stretched herself. The pain had left off hammering. She
could think.

Aunt Lavvy--to live like that for thirty-three years and to be happy at
the end. She wondered what happiness there could be in that dull
surrender and acquiescence, that cold, meek love of God.

"Kikerikueh! sie glaubten
Es waere Hahnen geschrei."




XXIV


I.

Everybody in the village knew you had been jilted. Mrs. Waugh and Miss
Frewin knew it, and Mr. Horn, the grocer, and Mr. Oldshaw at the bank.
And Mr. Belk, the Justice of the Peace--little pink and flaxen gentleman,
carrying himself with an air of pompous levity--eyes slewing round as you
passed; and Mrs. Belk--hard, tight rotundity, little iron-grey eyes
twinkling busily in a snub face, putty-skinned with a bilious gleam;
curious eyes, busy eyes saying, "I'd like to know what she did to be
jilted."

Minna and Sophy Acroyd, with their blown faces and small, disgusted
mouths: you could see them look at each other; they were saying, "Here's