When Gran Jimboy revealed her secret, she finished with a croaking¹ laugh of triumph, and lay back breathless on her pillow. Her hearers remained silent, in sheer astonishment² at the astounding³ statement which she had made, and which neither could believe. The old gipsy was irritated by this unspoken scepticism, and reiterated⁵ her charge.  
"I ses that t'passon killed that gude maid!" she declared; upon which Paul found his tongue.
 
"It is impossible!" cried he indignantly. "How dare you bring a charge like that against Mr. Chaskin! What motive⁶ had he for killing⁷ an innocent girl?"
 
"Eh, dearie, he loved her. Iss, gran spakes trew."
 
"Chaskin loved Milly!" said Lovel, a colour rising in his swarthy face. "What are you talking about, gran? If he had loved Milly, she would have told me.
 
"The maid was no fule, dearie," replied Mother Jimboy with feeble sarcasm⁸; "she played wi' all hearts, and tould not one o' the other. Did mun spake tu t' Squoire o' you, dearie? No. Nor did mun spake to you o' t'passon. Oh, dearie me, but yon maid was cliver, for sure!"
 
'Gran spoke⁴ so positively⁹ that Lovel half-believed her, and stared with angry eyes at her cunning old face. His companion did not say a word, for it had just come into Paul's mind that Miss Clyde, learning the fact from the gossip of Mrs. Drass, had brought the same charge against Chaskin. Evidently it was true, and Milly had inveigled¹⁰ the Vicar into loving her, in the intervals¹¹ of her flirtation¹² with Lovel and her demure¹³ conversations with Herne. She was determined¹⁴ that all should minister to her vanity and love of admiration¹⁵; and had so played off the three men, the one against the other, that not one of the three knew that she was flirting¹⁶ with his rival. Yet, as Paul considered, the Vicar must have occupied a different position, for he was aware that Milly was engaged to Herne, and must have known, what all the country gossips knew, that she was playing fast and loose with Lovel when her future husband's back was turned. Truly the village beauty had been a torch of destruction in her small way--a local Helen--and undeniably a foolish, wicked, vain creature, with only her beauty to recommend her. Cruel as the thought may seem, Mexton fancied that it was just as well she was dead and done with. Had she lived she would have contrived¹⁷ further mischief¹⁸.
 
"Suppose we grant that Mr. Chaskin was in love with Miss Lester," said he, after a pause, "why should he kill her?"
 
"For pure jealousy¹⁹," replied gran. "Ye don't think I spake trew? See ye here," and gran brought out a bundle from under the pillow. "I picked this up on the place where that poor maid was took."
 
Lovel undid²⁰ the bundle rapidly, and there lay before him a neat silver-plated pistol, the weapon, as he knew without being told, with which Milly had been killed. As in the case of the incriminatory revolver of Dr. Lester, produced by Miss Clyde, there was a name on the butt²¹. "Francis Chaskin" was the name.
 
"So he killed her, after all!" cried Lovel, and handed the weapon to Paul, with a fierce light in his eyes.
 
"Aye, aye; 'tis so," mumbled²² gran, wetting her dry lips. "I was at the stile when mun fired the pistol."
 
"Did you see him fire it?" asked Paul. "Did you see him kill the girl?"
 
"No," replied Mrs. Jimboy, "but I seed him on the common afore I came to the stile. He walked to the lane, an' I hears the shot. When I got to that stile, I see nothing but the dead maid. After I sees summat bright on the ground twinkle-twinkle in the moonlight. 'Twas yon pistol, dearie; an' I picked it up an' run back to my tent quick as my old legs could carry me.
 
"Did you think Chaskin was the murderer at that time?"
 
"No, dearie; only when I saw the name o' mun on the pistol. I told that gude maid that she would goo down to the grave."
 
"And you thought that Herne had killed her," said Paul, sternly. "Oh, you need not look so astonished, Mrs. Jimboy. I know you wrote a letter to Mr. Herne telling him that his promised wife was to meet Lovel on Sunday night."
 
"Ees," said gran, in a hard voice; "I wrote; 'twas I as brought mun down."
 
"You!" cried Lovel, aghast. "In heaven's name, why?"
 
"For your sweet sake, dearie," whimpered the old woman. "You be bone o' my bone an' flesh o' my flesh; an' you hev nowt o' goold, poor lamb! 'Tis my wish as you'd wed²³ wi' Mistress Clyde, an' hev lands an' money. But that dead maid was witchly, and was drawin' your heart into the net o' mun. I thought as t'Squoire, seeing her wickedness, would take her fro' you, for religion's sake, an' wed her, so it might be she'd tempt²⁴ ye no more; an' he could save the soul o' mun fro' the burnin' pit."
 
"You are a wicked old woman," said Lovel, vehemently²⁵. "By bringing Herne down you brought about the death of Milly."
 
"No, dearie, no. 'Twas passon killed her. T'Squoire did nowt, dear heart. For your good I told mun o' his maid's bad doings."
 
"Gran," said Paul--for Lovel was too angered to speak--"you prophesied²⁶ a violent death to Miss Lester. Did you make that prophecy knowing that she would be killed within twenty-four hours?"
 
"Eh, dearie, I know'd not when she would be killed. But fair maids wi' fierce lovers had best be wary²⁷, an' I thought if t'Squoire knew o' her wickedness, he might hev anger wi' her."
 
"In other words, you brought down Herne in the hope that he might fulfil your prophecy, and kill Milly," cried Lovel. "You are a wicked old Jezebel, and, blood or no blood, I shall have nothing to do with you!"
 
The old woman began to whimper and expostulate with feeble energy; but her grandson would listen to no excuses. With an angry look at her, he crawled out of the tent, and walked hastily across the common, trying to get rid of his wrath²⁸ by violent exercise. It was easily seen, as he considered, that gran, had hoped for the death of Milly at the hands of Herne. That the squire²⁹ had not killed her was due to the trance into which he had fallen while witnessing her fickleness³⁰; a trance wh............