"And did I listen to you?" he demanded, a sudden change upon his face, as though the act of smiling had put him in pain.
"No, that you didn't," the old man grumbled; "you fared as though you didn't hear."
"So I told you to go away and fill your lamps," said Carlton, sadly, "even though it was Midsummer Day! I have finished with the witness."
He was as one who had brilliantly parried a deadly thrust, and yet received a secret wound in the onset. He rested his head upon his hand to hide his pain, and only raised it at the sound of James Preston's voice putting the first question from the bench:
"As sexton, did you keep the key of the church?"
"In the old days I did, sir; but that's been open church ever since Mr. Carlton come."
"You mean that the church was open day and night?"
"To be sure it was."
"Thank you," said Preston hastily, as though glad to relapse into silence. Carlton did not add to his embarrassment by a glance, but his heart throbbed with gratitude for the goodwill he could no longer question.
"Did you fill the lamps?" asked the chairman as the witness was preparing to hobble from the box.