290 THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I 



yet she had not a gray hair in her head and her poise 

 was of an independent landowner rather than an 

 occupier of another's home. I also saw at a glance 

 that whatever her present position might be, she had 

 not been born in service, but was probably a native 

 of local importance, who, for some reason perfectly 

 satisfactory to herself, was 'accommodating.' 



'"Dr. Marchant, Dr. Russell, and I were college 

 mates,' said Martin, briefly, 'and after he and his son 

 died so suddenly I was told that his widow was men- 

 tally ill and that none could see her, and later that she 

 had died, or else the wording was so that I inferred 

 as much,' and the very recollection seemed to set Mar- 

 tin dreaming. And I did not wonder, for there had 

 never been a more brilliant and devoted couple than 

 Abbie and Chester Marchant, and I still remember 

 the shock of it when word came that both father and 

 son had been killed by the same runaway accident, 

 though it was nearly twenty years ago. 



'"She was ill, sir, was Mrs. Marchant; too ill to 

 see anybody. For a long time she wouldn't believe 

 that the accident had happened, and when she really 

 sensed it, she was as good as dead for nigh five years. 

 One day some of her people came to me 'twas 

 the year after my own husband died and asked 



