evening there were few people in Broxton and Hayslope who had not heard the sad news. Mr Irwine had not mentioned Arthur's name to Burge, and yet the story of his conduct towards Hetty, with all the dark shadows cast upon it by its terrible consequences, was presently as well known as that his grandfather was dead, and he was come into the estate. For Martin Poyser felt no motive to keep silence towards the one or two neighbours who ventured to come and shake him sorrowfully by the hand on the first day of his trouble; and Carrol, who kept his ears open to all that passed at the Rectory, had framed an inferential version of the story, and found early opportunities of communicating it.
One of those neighbours who came to Martin Poyser and shook him by the hand without speaking for some minutes, was Bartle Massey. He had shut up his school, and was on his way to the Rectory, where he arrived about half-past seven in the evening, and, sending his duty to Mr Irwine, begged pardon for troubling him at that hour, but had something particular on his mind. He was shown into the study, where Mr Irwine soon joined him.
"Well, Bartle?" said Mr Irwine, putting out his hand. That was not his usual way of saluting the
