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Updated: May 31, 2025
He had expended this sentiment on two people, one, his wife, who had died in Whitmansworth Union, the other Aymer Aston, his cousin, who on the moment of his declared union with Elizabeth Hibbault, had fallen victim to so grim a tragedy.
The boy gave him as straight a look of judgment as he himself received. "Down there it is," with a nod of his head in the direction of the distant townlet. "And not up here?" "Dunno, they calls it the Great Road." The stranger still stood looking down at him fixedly. "Is your name James Christopher Hibbault?"
It was Aymer who spoke, slowly and directly. Mr. Aston kept his eyes on the boy and tried not to see his son. "What is your real name, Christopher, do you know?" "James Christopher Hibbault, but they calls me Jim, except him." In his sleepiness and agitation the boy had dropped back into country dialect. Aymer winced. "That is the only name you know?
"Christopher, go out and stay by the carriage till I call you, and ask the gentleman Mr. Stapleton to come in here." And James Christopher Hibbault obeyed without so much as a glance for permission at Mr. Moss. He delivered his message and then interviewed the groom, who seemed used to waiting. The tea bell rang, but Jim, though hungry, never thought of disobeying his orders.
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