The half-distracted woman ran into the sitting-room, where the first thing she saw was Dolly in a dead faint, lying upon the sofa, with Holdsworth kneeling by her side. “She overheard your voices!” he exclaimed, turning up a face as white as death. “Pray God the shock may not kill her. Look to her, Mrs. Parrot, I _must_ speak to the man outside.” He jumped up and left the room, and found the little irritable man in the act of walking away. “I beg your pardon. One moment!” he cried, running out after him. “Pray excuse my agitation--you have brought shocking news. Is it _indeed_ true?” The little man turned and took in Holdsworth from head to foot, and answered: “It is true, sir. I’ve seen the body myself. It’s in the Town Hall. He’s been in the water all night, the doctor says.” “All night?” “He was found by a man named Williamson. They all knew who he was when they saw him. He must have been drunk when he fell into the water, for the path was wide enough for a horse and cart. Dr. Tanner asked me to step round with the news as he heard I was coming this way. Good morning.” The little man nodded and walked away. Had Dolly been a rich man’s wife, a sympathetic deputation, introduced by the churchwardens, might have made a procession to her house to break the news gently, but how can you expect sympathy for the wife of a man who dies owing everybody money? Holdsworth was stunned, and stood for some moments staring idly from the porch. He then returned hastily to Dolly’s side. “She’s comin’ to, sir,” said Mrs. Parrot, slapping the poor girl’s hand, and expending what breath she had upon the cold white forehead. “What awful noos, sir!... Conway dead! I can’t believe it. And drowned, too! Oh, poor wretch!” “Hush!” exclaimed Holdsworth. Dolly had opened her eyes, and was staring blindly at him. He moistened his handkerchief with water on the sideboard and pressed it to her head. Nelly stood at the window gazing at her mother with a look of wistful fear in her face. At the door was Martha’s countenance, seamed with lines of perspiration, her mouth open, and her hair hanging like a string of young carrots over her forehead. * * * * * “I feel very weak,” muttered Dolly, striving to sit upright, but falling back. “Something terrible has happened. Ah! Robert is dead!” The memory rushed upon her like a spasm, and she spoke in a cry. “Come, my dear, don’t try to speak yet,” said Mrs. Parrot. “Where is Nelly?” Holdsworth led the child to the sofa. The mother looked at her little girl, opened her arms, and burst into tears. “Thank God for that!” said Holdsworth, turning away. Watching her face as her consciousness had dawned, he had felt that, if tears did not relieve her, her heart would break. CHAPTER XXXI. HUSBAND AND WIFE.