I was not prepared for this fresh agony; but I saw that there was no getting rid of our troublesome visitors without endeavouring to satisfy their insatiable greed for news; and I went through the dreadful task with more nerve than I expected. My mother listened to the recital with breathless interest, and the women clung to me with open eyes and mouth, as if their very life depended upon my words, often interrupting me with uncouth exclamations of surprise and horror. At length all was told that I could tell. My mother again broke into passionate tears. "Poor Mrs. Martin!" she sobbed, "how dreadful it must be to her. I pity her from my very soul!" I had never given Martin's unfortunate mother a single thought. I was not naturally cruel, and this planted a fresh arrow in my heart. "It is about eight years ago that she lost her husband," said neighbour Smith. "He died from the bite of a mad dog. He was the 'Squire's gamekeeper then. Little Sally was not born until five months after her father's death. I don't know how the widow has contrived to scratch along, and keep out of the workhouse. But she was always a hard-working woman. She had no friend like the Squire, to take _her_ by the hand and give her son a genteel education. She did get along, however, and sent that Bill to Mr. Bullen's school; but she half starved herself to do it--and what good? He has been a world of trouble to her, and almost broke her heart before he run off to 'Meriky. This fresh misfortune will go nigh to kill her outright." "And was it to add to this poor devoted creature's sorrows," I asked myself, "that I was prepared to give false evidence against her son?" For well I knew, that his life depended upon that evidence. For Martin I felt no pity. His death never filled me with remorse like the murder of the 'Squire. He was born for the gallows. I had only forestalled him in the deed that would send him to the grave. He had sought the spot with the intention to rob and kill. I had no doubts on that head; and I persuaded myself that he had richly merited the fate that awaited him. But the grief of his unhappy mother awakened a pang in my breast that was not so easily assuaged. The women at length took their leave, and I was alone with my mother. For some minutes she remained silent, her hands pressed tightly over her breast, and her tear-swollen eyes fixed mournfully on the ground. "Noah," she said, at length, slowly raising her head, and looking me earnestly in the face, "do you think that the family would allow me to look at the corpse?" I actually started with horror. I felt the blood recede from my cheeks, and a cold chill creep from my hair downwards. "Good God! Mother, what should make you wish to see him? He is a frightful spectacle!--so frightful that I would not look at him again for worlds!" "Oh," groaned my mother, "it is hard to part from him for ever, without one last look!"