was lying before her dead. He would never see her again, never speak to her again, never crack a joke, never kiss her, never thank her in his jolly way for the money she gave him. The bond between them was cut. After having been so much to each other, they were parted; not for a short time, but for ever. For always. They would never again look into each other's eyes. There was no hope. .. Heaven was not now or for now . . . As long as she lived she would never hear her David speak, or speak to him . Life was not worth living . She moaned, the echoes of a broken heart piercing the ears of the listeners like the sound of something agonised to whom help is impossible. She refused at first to leave

the body. She sat for a long time with David's cold hand in hers, just moaning.

When she did go home, she refused to eat and could not sleep. She kept moaning and calling for David. Mr. Ewins did not know what to do; he could not understand such grief.

Mrs. Ewins's sister, Miss Hollins, was sent for but Mrs. Ewins kept up the agonising wail.

David .

99

She

"David . . . David . kept saying with a curious break in her voice, that might respond to a breaking of something in her heart.

She had ceased to shed tears, but she moaned and pulled her face pathetically, just as if she were going to cry. But it was always the moan.

"Gertrude . . . Gertrude . . Don't take on so. Try and lie down. There's Thomas here.

But Mrs. Ewins appeared to listen to nothing. She kept up a heartrending wail, with sudden bursts into a cry of agony. Her look got wilder and wilder, her face

began to be drawn as if the muscles were being pulled somehow and her eyes haunted one.

"She'll get ill if she goes on like that," said Thomas, "an' then there'll be a big doctor's bill to pay."

"She will," said Miss Hollins. "Talk to her a bit." "Missis," he said.

But she just sat and wailed. She looked at nobody, for she still apparently saw the dead body of her son before her. . . Her son dead . . dead. The low moaning was horrible to hear. "Missis," said Ewins.

Her handkerchief was screwed up in her hand which lay listless in her lap.

"It'll do no good now, missis. He's gone. It's” She broke out into a long drawn note.

"My God!" said Ewins.

"Gertrude!" said Miss Hollins.

Mrs. Ewins kept up the wail till her husband and sister scarcely knew what to do.

"It's broken her heart," said Miss Hollins.

"She mun pull 'erself together," said Ewins. "We canna go on like this. It was a shock to me: butdrink, drink.

"If we could get her to bed," said Miss Hollins. "Gertrude!"

Mrs. Ewins paid no attention. She would occasionally get up from her chair and give vent to louder moans, while her body shook with painful spasms. "You must send for the doctor," said Miss Hollins.

"She'll get over it," said Ewins. "Missis! Missis!... 'ave a sup o' summat . ..some tea. Wonder if a drop o' whiskey 'ud do 'er good."

"Send for the doctor."

And all the time she gave out her nerve racking, heart-broken moan. Suddenly she gave a gasp and a gurgle and fell. Ewins and her sister picked her up at once and carried her to bed.

"Go for a doctor at once," said Miss Hollins.

"Eh, dear!" he said. "I do 'ave some trouble," and he put on his hat and went for the doctor.

CHAPTER XXVIII

"THE TRUTH AND ONE MAN'S TREASURE"

THE

HE blow was more than Mrs. Ewins was able to bear. Dr. Everkith attended her but he shook

his head to Thomas Ewins.

"What's up?" asked Ewins.

"I fear it's serious."

"'Ead?"

The doctor nodded.

"An' will she never be right again?"

"I wouldn't say that; but I think she should see a specialist.'

"A specialist Looks to me like a waste o' money. After all I've spent on that funeral, too! I was allus afraid of 'er goin' off like this; I think one of 'er relations went off 'is chump. Allus payin' for sumMy side's 'ealthy enough."

mat.

In the end the specialist was called in and ordered rest and a change, but he was not hopeful.

Miss Hollins tackled Ewins.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him.

"Me? . . . In what way?" He was always a little afraid of his sister-in-law because of her tongue and her money. He did not want the former, but he certainly hoped for the latter.

"Don't play the fool with me, Thomas," she said

sharply. "What are you going to do with Gertrude?" "What can I do?"

"T't.... T't. You heard what the doctor said -she wants rest and a change."

"Well, she can stop in bed and rest there; we'll go to Blackpool for a week-end-"

"Fiddlesticks! Gertrude must go away at once; she can't stay here where she is reminded every moment of David."

"'Ow can I get away? 'Aven't I a business to see to? An' who's goin' to find t' money for all this?”

"You." "Oh. oh! You think I'm made o' money perhaps. It's all bunkum what these doctors say. She'll get better 'ere with a bit o' rest. They 'ave to say

summat."

"That will do," she said. "Gertrude is going away if I have to take her. You'll do nothing, I can see. You think there's nothing in this life equal to money. You've worshipped money ever since I can remember and you've never brought, so far as I can see, one scrap of happiness to anybody connected with you."

"I've been a good 'usband," he muttered.

"If grabbing and hoarding money is being a good husband you're one of the best. But you're no good at spending. You wouldn't spend money on your son's education and so you sent him—well, poor David! he's perhaps better out of it. You're one of those mean, wretched misers that make everybody worse who comes in contact with them. If you weren't Gertrude's husband I'd give you a bit of my mind. But I don't think it would do any good. Men like you are no good as husbands or fathers. In fact, Thomas Ewins, you're good for nothing except picking up money, and that