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Updated: June 14, 2025
It was rapidly drawing towards six o'clock in the evening, and the darkness of night had already fallen upon the outer landscape. Mrs. Savareen sat in her little parlor with her boy upon her knee, as it was her custom to sit at this hour.
She had not only seen Savareen sitting on his black mare at the door, immediately after the town bell ceased ringing for eight o'clock; but she had listened to the conversation between him and her husband, and had heard pretty nearly every word. Lapierre cross examined her, and found that her report of the interview exactly corresponded with what he had already heard from old Jonathan.
One of the constables, discouraged by repeated failures, ventured in all seriousness to express a suspicion that Savareen had been bodily devoured by his mare. How else could you account for no trace of him being visible anywhere? By an unaccountable oversight, Shuttleworth had kept no memorandum of the number of the notes paid over to Savareen, and it was thus impossible to trace them.
"Savareen." "Where? When?" "Why, not two minutes ago. He passed through here on his way home just before you came up." "How long pefore?" "How long! Why, don't I tell you, not two minutes. He hadn't hardly got out o' sight when I heerd your horse's feet on the stones, and thought it was him a-coming back again. You must a met him this side o' Stolliver's."
"I can assure you," responded Mrs. Savareen, "that I have no intention of doing any harm either to him or to you. I would much rather do you a kindness, if I could. I can see for myself that you stand in great need of kindness." The last words were spoken in a tone which disarmed suspicion, and which at the same time stimulated curiosity. The shadow on Mrs. Randall's face passed away.
But any idea of the kind was altogether out of the question. Stolliver was a boorish, uncompanionable fellow, but a more unlikely man to commit such a serious crime could not have been found in the whole country side. Again, he could not have had any conceivable motive for making away with Savareen, as he had been working all day in the fields and knew nothing about the four hundred pounds.
"There he is," she remarked, "an' it's considered an awful good likeness." Mrs. Savareen took the daguerreotype and approached the candle. The first glance was amply sufficient. It was the likeness of her husband. She made up her mind as to her line of action on the instant. Her love for the father of her child died away as she gazed on his picture.
Savareen talking to me a few minutes since, and whether you saw him ride off up the road just before Mr. Lapierre came down. Did you, or did you not?" Mrs. Perry's answer was decisive, and at the same time conclusive as to the facts.
Savareen had herself communicated the facts, and had also sent over a copy of the Millbrook Sentinel, containing a long and minute account of the affair. A letter arrived from Herefordshire in due course, acknowledging the receipt of these missives, and enquiring whether the lost had been found.
Savareen and her affairs had ceased to be the engrossing topics of discussion among the people of Millbrook and its neighborhood. She continued to live a very secluded life, and seldom stirred beyond the threshold of her own door.
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