Clement opened the desk, and found and read the paper.  It contained a verse not uncommon upon the tombstones of the last rural generation in Devon: 

  “Ye standers-by, the thread is spun;
   All pomp and pride I e’er did shun;
   Rich and poor alike must die;
   Peasants and kings in dust must lie;
   The best physicians cannot save
   Themselves or patients from the Grave.”

“Them’s the words, an’ I’ve chose ’em so as Doctor Parsons shall have a smack in the faace when I’m gone.  Not that he’s wan o’ the ’best physicians’ by a mighty long way; but he’ll knaw I was thinking of him, an’ gnash his teeth, I hope, every time he sees the stone.  I owe him that—­an’ more ’n that, as you’ll see when I’m gone.”

“You mustn’t talk of going, aunt—­not for many a day.  You’re a young woman for these parts.  You must take care—­that’s all.”

But he saw death in her face while he spoke, and could scarcely hide the frantic jubilation her promise had awakened in him.  The news swept him along on a flood of novel thoughts.  Coming as it did immediately upon his refusal to betray Will Blanchard, the circumstance looked, even in the eyes of Hicks, like a reward, an interposition of Providence on his behalf.  He doubted not but that the bulk of mankind would so regard it.  There arose within him old-fashioned ideas concerning right and wrong—­clear notions that brought a current of air through his mind and blew away much rotting foliage and evil fruit.  This sun-dawn of prosperity transformed the man for a moment, even awoke some just ethical thoughts in him.

His reverie was interrupted, for, on the way from Mrs. Lezzard’s home, Clement met Doctor Parsons himself and asked concerning his aunt’s true condition.

“She gave you the facts as they are,” declared the medical man.  “Nothing can save her.  She’s had delirium tremens Lord knows how often.  A fortnight to a month—­that’s all.  Nature loves these forlorn hopes and tinkers away at them in a manner that often causes me to rub my eyes.  But you can’t make bricks without straw.  Nature will find the game ’s up in a few days; then she’ll waste no more time, and your aunt will be gone.”

Home went Clement Hicks, placed his mother in a whirl of mental rejoicing at this tremendous news, then set out for Chris. Their compact of the morning—­that she should await his return in the woods—­he quite forgot; but Mrs. Blanchard reminded him and added that Chris had returned in no very good humour, then trudged up to Newtake to see Phoebe.  Cool and calm the widow stood before Clement’s announcement, expressed her gratification, and gave him joy of the promised change in his life.

“Glad enough am I to hear tell of this.  But you’ll act just—­eh?  You won’t forget that poor auld blid, Lezzard?  If she’m gwaine to leave un out the account altogether, he’ll be worse off than the foxes.  His son’s gone to foreign paarts an’ his darter’s lyin’-in—­not that her husband would spare a crust o’ bread for auld Lezzard, best o’ times.”