"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 sarcasm; "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 spoke so positively 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 inveigled the Vicar into loving her, in the intervals of her flirtation with Lovel and her demure conversations with Herne. She was determined that all should minister to her vanity and love of admiration; and had so played off the three men, the one against the other, that not one of the three knew that she was flirting 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 contrived further mischief.
"Suppose we grant that Mr. Chaskin was in love with Miss Lester," said he, after a pause, "why should he kill her?"
"For pure jealousy," 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 undid 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 butt. "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," mumbled 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?"