A woman followed them to the road, and tried to clasp the Mayor's
knees as he staggered. His mother beat her away. "Off wi' you!" she
cried; "'tis your reproach he's bearin'."
She helped him slowly home. In the shadow of the cottage the
inspired look that he had worn all day returned for a moment. Then
a convulsion took him, casting him on the floor.
At nine o'clock he died, with his head on her lap.
She closed his eyes, smoothed the wrinkles on his tired face, and sat
watching him for some time. At length she lifted and laid him on the
deal table at full length, bolted the door, put the heavy shutter on
the low window, and began to light the fire.
For fuel she had a heap of peat-turves and some sticks. Having lit
it, she set a crock of water to warm, and undressed the man slowly.
Then, the water being ready, she washed and laid him out, chafing his
limbs and talking to herself all the while.
"Fair, straight legs," she said; "beautiful body that leapt in my
side, forty years back, and thrilled me! How proud I was! Why did
God make you beautiful?"
All night she sat caressing him. And the smoke of the peat-turves,
finding no exit and no draught to carry them up the chimney, crept
around and killed her quietly beside her son.
THE DOCTOR'S FOUNDLING.
There are said to be many vipers on the Downs above the sea; but it
was so pleasant to find a breeze up there allaying the fervid
afternoon, that I risked the consequences and stretched myself at
full length, tilting my straw hat well over my nose.
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