At Audiology Associates of Prestonsburg, you can live your life the way you want and find the freedom of better hearing. With 40 years of being in the hearing care industry, you'll experience patient care that is specific to you with exceptional follow-up care that ensures your hearing and balance needs are being met. Audiology Associates at 1428 North Lake Drive in Prestonsburg. God's Pick Crew, a nonprofit faith-based crisis response team, revealed a new home for the Smith family Thursday, April 6th. Over 150 volunteers worked to rebuild a home for the Smith family who lost everything when massive floods swept through the region. You know, everybody knows the events that happened here on July the 27th of last year. What a devastating event. We had trucks here within about 10 or 12 hours with product, and then our immediate response team came in quickly after that. And of course, we met a lot of incredible families that were affected, but our immediate response coordinator met Nathan and Jamie, and just, boy, there was just such a connection, an incredible story of loss, also an incredible battle that Jamie has had with health issues and with her heart, and so we just felt compelled to try to do something to help them get their lives back together. God's Pick Crew built, furnished, and decorated the new home from the ground up in just 11 days. Volunteers also made personalized decorations from recovered effects that survived the flood. We are amazed. It's more than we could have ever dreamed of, and we are forever grateful to God's Pick Crew because from the beginning to the end of this process, they have been absolutely wonderful. They are generous and kind and hardworking and just absolutely wonderful. It's just so much more than we dreamed of. Yes, it's just... We knew it was going to be nice, but we never imagined anything like this. Yeah, it's just unbelievable, really, and in what time they've been here that they could do stuff to this beautiful. It's remarkable. I probably will just walk around all day looking at how beautiful it is. It's just incredible.


Hello friends. So welcome to another session on trigonometric identity problem solving. So in this problem, it is asked to prove that cosecant theta minus sine theta times secant theta minus cosecant, sorry, cos theta times tan theta plus cot theta is equal to one. The product of these three factors is one. Now, we learned that we have multiple approaches to solve a particular problem. We should keep in mind that either we can reduce it to the most simplest form that is sine and cos and then attempt to the problem or we keep in mind our trigonometric identities, the three basic fundamental relations which we learned. What all did we learn? We learned cos square theta plus sine square theta is equal to one. This is what we learned first. Then we learned cosecant square theta minus cot square theta is equal to one. And then we learned cosecant square theta minus tan square theta is equal to one. These three trigonometric relations we have to keep in mind and a set of trigonometric, sorry, algebraic identities which can be used.  So we have to keep these things in mind before attempting to prove the identity. Now, in this case, in the LHS, if you observe, these two t ratios are reciprocals, isn't it? Secant is the reciprocal of cos and is the reciprocal of cot and cosecant is reciprocal of sine. Can we reduce it to the basic form? Let us try that. So what I'm doing is I'm writing cosecant as, so here is the LHS. So in LHS, I can write cosecant theta as one upon sine theta, one upon sine theta and then sine theta is left as it is. Secondly, this is one upon cos theta and this is cos theta and tan can be written as sine by cos, sine by cos and cot can be written as cos theta upon sine theta. These ratios you must be aware of. Now, taking the LCM, so hence sine theta and here what is the denominator one? Here it is one. So what can I say? This is sine theta is the denominator in the first term, first factor. So hence it is one minus sine square theta. Now the moment you see some kind of form like this one minus sine theta one upon sine theta, it should come automatically in your mind that after reducing it, you will get one minus sine square which is somewhat here, isn't it? If you see one minus sine square is cos square. So that's what is the indication. Now second is similar to the first one. One minus cos square theta by cos theta and then the final one is the LCM is sine theta and cos theta product. And hence the first term is sine square theta and the second term is since sine theta is already here, so hence I have to multiply the top one by cos, so becomes cos square theta. Now it is very, very simple. You could have guessed by now that all the top numerators, the three numerators are related to this particular identity. So hence our life becomes much easier. So one minus sine square can be now written as cos square theta and the denominator is sine theta. Next factor is one minus cos square is sine square theta and the denominator is cos theta. So what is sine square plus cos square? From here it is one, so I will write one upon sine theta times cos theta.  So hence eventually it is reduced to one which is equal to RHS. So what did we learn in this question? The learning is if you know it helps to reduce into the basic form but it is not necessary that if you reduce the identity in sine and cos it will become easier. You have to also keep in mind the three identities which I have written on the right hand side and the algebraic identities which will be useful in solving the identities, trigonometric identities. Thank you.


Greetings, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Gennady Stolyarov II. I'm the chairman of the United States Transhumanist Party and the chief executive of the Nevada Transhumanist Party. Today I will be giving some brief answers to interview questions that were emailed to me by Francesco Sacco. The first question is, what is transhumanism and what inspire you to follow it? Transhumanism is the philosophy and movement that holds that through science and technology, the hitherto fundamental limitations of the human condition could be overcome. Those limitations include the finitude of human life spans, human's tendency toward frailty, disease, psychological flaws and biases, conflict, as well as the constraints imposed upon us externally by the natural world, including the scarcity of material resources, which exacerbates a lot of the psychological flaws that drive suboptimal human behavior. So ultimately the human condition up until now has been shaped by these limitations, but in extremely deleterious ways. Humans have many positive attributes and potentialities that have only been partially realized, but can be more fully realized through scientific and technological progress and their consistent application and widespread dissemination. What inspired me to follow transhumanism is that I see the philosophy of transhumanism as well as its practical applications as being the way out of virtually all of the problems that afflict contemporary societies. We live in an era where there have been many improvements relative to the past, but where many challenges and deep tragedies remain. The principal tragedy is that of our own mortality, but we can look everywhere in the world, just turn on the news and see the plethora of suboptimal human behaviors as well as the wide variety of diseases and material limitations that still prevent humans from living the kinds of lives which I believe are eminently attainable, but they require sustained technological innovations and a focus on accelerating the rate of progress, essentially pushing our species into its next great era. The next question is, what are the long term goals of the transhumanist party? The US transhumanist party holds three core ideals. These ideals were framed in a broad way so as to unite those individuals who consider themselves transhumanists even though there are many different flavors of transhumanism and transhumanists. The first core ideal is that the transhumanist party supports significant life extension achieved through the progress of science and technology. The second core ideal is that the transhumanist party supports a cultural, societal, and political atmosphere informed and animated by reasons, science, and secular values. The third core ideal is that the transhumanist party supports efforts to use science, technology, and rational discourse to reduce and eliminate various existential risks to the human species. So ultimately what the transhumanist party seeks to achieve is a world where politics would play an extremely different role from the role it plays today. Today it seems that politics is used primarily as a divisive forum to split people needlessly into competing tribes that vie for resources and status and sometimes the sheer perverse gratification of denigrating or pushing down somebody. And that is destructive politics. What the transhumanist party seeks to achieve is a world of solely constructive politics where politics is used as an arena to frame policy in order to render innovation as easy as possible. Innovation in a variety of scientific and technological fields from medicine to biotechnology to nanotechnology to artificial intelligence to space colonization to automation including autonomous vehicles to vertical farming to technologies that can help reduce the deadly toll of warfare. We also seek to advance policies that are consistent with a more peaceful and prosperous world, policies that lead people in the direction of more peace as opposed to more war. So for instance we support complete nuclear disarmament, policies that embrace individual freedom and civil liberties. For instance we support an end to the costly and destructive war on drugs and the legalization of mild recreational drugs such as marijuana. We are strong supporters of individual privacy rights. We are strong supporters of the concept of morphological freedom which means essentially that individuals have the sovereignty over their own bodies and their own modes of living and they should be free to pursue science and technology to enhance themselves if they so see fit. And in a variety of ways seek to overcome the limitations of their current biological organisms. Ultimately what the transhumanist party wishes to achieve is a world where every sentient entity is able to live for as long as it chooses and have the kind of quality of life that it chooses and has access to an indefinite abundance of resources which can be brought about through continued scientific and technological progress just as the typical standard of living of an average person in a so-called developed country today would be seen as improbably prosperous to the typical resident of say an ancient Greek city-state or the Roman Empire or a medieval fiefdom. Likewise the kinds of prosperity and opportunities that would be available to individuals in a future transhuman era may not even be conceivable to many people today but good policies can get us there. The next question is what are your thoughts on death and eternal life through technological enhancements? So first of all it's important to make the clarification that the continued progress of science and technology is not going to lead to anything that could be called eternal life right away. Rather progressive improvements in our ability to cure diseases and hopefully rejuvenate cells that currently succumb to the process of senescence or biological aging will be able to essentially attain increases in incremental life expectancy for people. So if somebody who is biologically 60 goes in for a series of first generation rejuvenation treatments that person might come out being biologically 40 but what that enables that person then to do is live long enough for the next generation of rejuvenation treatments to be developed. And then when that person is biologically 60 again he or she can come in for the next set of treatments and perhaps become even biologically younger than 40 so those treatments would be more advanced by that time that person would have an improved outcome. And this may potentially continue indefinitely at the point at which a person's remaining life expectancy increases due to the progress of science and technology more rapidly than the passage of time. This is called longevity escape velocity and somebody who benefits from a society that has reached longevity escape velocity essentially does not have a fixed upper limit to his or her lifespan. So that person may potentially live indefinitely without any upper bound at any given point in time that person may still be technically mortal in the sense that he or she or it could succumb to an accident or an infection that might not have been anticipated. However, the probability of that will also decrease and hopefully asymptotically approach zero over time so the longer you live in a technologically progressing society the greater your probability of not dying. So if the concept of so-called eternal life is understood this way as indefinite life rather than indestructibility then this is an eminently attainable goal, obviously not tomorrow but hopefully within the next several decades to benefit many individuals who are alive today. There are many scientists who are working on this goal. Some of the more prominent individuals include Dr. Aubrey de Grey who has formulated an approach called SEN's, strategies for engineered negligible senescence which identifies seven principle types of damage at the cellular level that contributes and constitutes biological aging and proposes an engineering approach to reverse each of these kinds of damage to essentially rejuvenate cells back to a youthful state. There's also the work of Dr. Bill Andrews of Sierra Sciences a telomere biologist. Telomeres are the end caps of the chromosomes of human DNA and as the chromosomes replicate the telomeres shorten over time and when the telomere length becomes critically short the cells stop being able to function and in an individual with many cells with short telomeres like that that individual will die. So essentially Dr. Andrews is seeking ways to slow down and ultimately reverse telomere shortening in humans. There are many other possible approaches that are being discussed within the life extension community and ultimately the key is to have sufficient funding and public support for research into how exactly effective rejuvenation can be achieved. The moment that this becomes as popular and widely supported a cause as are the wars on specific diseases or types of diseases like heart disease or cancer are today that will be when we have a clear shot at victory. So when people start organizing running races to cure aging just as they do to cure heart disease or particular types of cancer today when people donate at their workplace for their selected charity and have the donations go to a research institution that explores ways to regenerate and rejuvenate the human organism and reverse biological aging that is when we will be well on our way to achieving this goal. This can be done within our lifetimes and this can be done with the support of ordinary people. In order to make these causes popular one does not oneself have to be a trained biologist or scientist one just has to be passionate about this cause and persuade as many people as possible that this is a worthwhile undertaking. The last sets of questions pertain to whether I feel there are any disadvantages to having access to the cure for death and I will interpret that as referring to indefinite life extension and also what advantages are there. I'll address the question of advantages first. The advantages are numerous in fact the victory over involuntary death will be the greatest victory that human beings could ever win because ultimately we have so much potential each of us as an individual is a precious irreplaceable mental universe. We have so many thoughts so many goals and aspirations so many memories so many abilities to perceive the world in beautiful and remarkable ways and have all of that extinguished without even a trace of it remaining is a colossal tragedy at that tragedy happens on the order of one hundred and fifty thousand of these precious irreplaceable universes being extinguished every single day. And the sooner we put an end to that the better so what are the advantages you could do anything you want that is peaceful and respectful of others with those added years of life you could pursue activities that enrich you that inform you about the world that you enjoy that benefit other humans and other living beings. Essentially the field of possibility is wide open right now so many humans make suboptimal choices because of their woefully short life spans if your time in this existence is going to pass so quickly then you may feel pressured to do certain things right away or do so many of them in close succession that each of them is not done particularly well or done at a great cost that really should not be incurred I expect that with more time available to them more people will be prudent and foresighted in how they plan their lives they will look at the consequences of their actions not just tomorrow or a year from now or ten years from now but many decades or even centuries from now people will become more responsible with regard to the world around them they may become more concerned about pollution or long term natural cataclysms for instance the recurrence of another ice age or the possibility of a large asteroid hitting the earth or long term projects for instance sending spacecraft to colonize another world or another planet which will likely take centuries even the voyage to many potentially habitable planets will take many more of today's human lifetimes then anyone today would be comfortable with undertaking that voyage for so ultimately having indefinite life spans will be the greatest benefit that human beings have ever experienced and will transform each of us if we would like to become those beings into the equivalent of super humans we would be creators of amazing beautiful works in our lives we will be wiser more productive more foresighted more considerate of other people than any of us is today or has the incentive to be today so in light of this the first part of the question was do I feel there are any disadvantages to having access to indefinite life extension my honest answer is no there are many common arguments against indefinite life extension but all of them are fallacious and they're very readily shown to be fallacious the reason why those arguments exist is that death is scary and it has been inevitable truly inevitable for the vast majority of human existence up until now and faced with this overwhelming fear of their own mortality humans through societal cultural and religious constructs developed elaborate rationalizations and coping mechanisms to essentially make peace with their eventual mortality so that they could go on living their day to day lives and common rationalizations may include the idea that oh there's an afterlife so in some form one continues existing and one doesn't have to worry about physical death in this world but many of these rationalizations are not religious at all especially in a world that is becoming increasingly secular a lot of people are using arguments like the overpopulation argument oh the world will get overcrowded there will be too many people there are so many problems with that overpopulation argument even without indefinite longevity human populations are essentially on a trajectory to stabilize by the middle of the 21st century because birth rates affect population growth far more than death rates and birth rates have been declining everywhere in the world they have declined to below two children per woman on average in most so-called developed countries and I put that term in quotes because all countries are underdeveloped today but in most countries in North America and Europe and even countries in the far east especially Japan the birth rate is now less than two children per woman so eventually that is going to lead the populations of those countries to stabilize or decline absent net migration from other countries but even in countries where the birth rate is significantly higher than that it has been declining over time with industrialization with increasing educational opportunities it so happens that people tend to have fewer children and furthermore even if all people stop dying tomorrow the population growth rate would be lower than it was during the baby boom of the mid 20th century so this ostensible problem which is not really a problem at all has already been dealt with by human societies fairly well in our recent history there is no overpopulation crisis there will not be an overpopulation crisis even in the unrealistic case of all death ending tomorrow which unfortunately is not what is going to happen with the arrival of indefinite life extension under even the most optimistic projections but nonetheless the overpopulation argument is simply another way in which people try to justify mortality so as to put the fear of death out of their minds and there are a lot of other spurious arguments like the boredom argument oh if you live such a long time wouldn't you get bored well consider the thousands of new books are published every single day and one does not have the ability to read them all so the longer one lives the more things there will be out there that one hasn't done as compared to what one has done think about this the longer you're alive the larger a proportion of existence you haven't experienced that is how vastly opportunities grow relative to the time to enjoy them so as the old adage goes the only people who get bored are boring people boredom should not be a problem for anyone in today's world or in the world of the future and especially not in a world of indefinite longevity there are other spurious arguments like well what if all of the people around the age of die but I do not that's not how medicine or science works if indefinite life extension is available to one person especially a person of ordinary means it's going to be available to other people around them or the so-called tithiness error which states that like the mythical Greek figure of tithiness one gets older and increasingly frailer that is impossible because the very sources of frailty in old age are also the reasons why people die in old age so the only way to live significantly longer than the longest life spans of today would be to rejuvenate the body and to be biologically young indefinitely there are arguments also along the lines of well wouldn't the world stagnate if the same people are around all the time because essentially you need new people to bring in fresh ideas well first of all nothing prevents new people or other sentient entities from being created if existing people continue to live indefinitely that would further increase the diversity of ideas bringing in the new without destroying the old second it is quite likely that the reason for any observed stagnation of individual people's thinking with age is that the brain becomes more rigid as its senesces so if the senescence is no longer a problem there may well be greatly improved neuroplasticity with age in any event there are many more very common surface level objections to indefinite life extension all of them can be refuted with a modicum of thought the only reason why those objections are deployed is because the problem of mortality seems so daunting and has been unconquerable during past eras of human history so people try everything they possibly can to reconcile themselves with death but it is time to stop doing that because now in our generation science and technology are finally within reach of victory over this age old foe and as a great illustration of the importance of a change in thinking to achieving that victory I encourage everyone to either read or find a video representation of the fable of the dragon tyrant by Dr. Nick Bostrom so thank you very much for allowing me to share my thoughts in response to these questions ultimately whether we achieve the goals of the transhumanist movement including the most important goal which is our continued existence depends on the extent of public support available for this greatest of all quests and perhaps the greatest of all challenges that our species will face but once we overcome these challenges the future is bright and we as individuals can be there to witness it thank you very much


Chapter 38 of The Nest of the Sparrowhawk by Emma Orksy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Giants, Salt Lake City, Utah. The Voice of the Dead The next moment a timid knock against the front door caused everyone to start. A strange eerie feeling descended on the hearts of all, of innocent and of guilty, of accuser and of defender. The knock seemed to have come from spectral hands, for it was followed by no further sound. Then again the knock. Lambert went to the door and opened it. Be the quality here, queried a timid voice. Squire Boatfield is here and Sir Marmadude de Chavasse replied Lambert. What is it, Matt? Come in. The squire had risen at sound of his name, and now went to the door, glad enough to shake himself free from that awful oppression which hung on the cottage, like a weight of evil. What is it, Matt? He asked. A man in rough shirt and coarse breeches and with high boots reaching up to the thigh was standing humbly in the doorway. He was bareheaded, and his linky hair, wet with rain and glittering with icy moisture, was blown about by the gale. At sight of the squire he touched his forelock. The hour is getting late, squire. He said, hesitatingly, we carriers be ready, till an hour or more down to Minster, walking with a heavy burden. I mean, if your honor would give the order, may have we might nail down the coffin lid now and make a start. Marmadude de Chavasse, too, had turned towards the doorway. Both men looked out on the little crowd which had congregated beyond the little gate. It was long past three o'clock now, and the heavy snow clouds overhead obscured the scanty winter light and precipitated the approach of evening. In the great twilight a group of men could be seen standing somewhat apart from the others. All were bareheaded, and all wore rough shirts and breeches of coarse, worsted drab or brown in color, toning in with the dull monochrome of the background. Between them, in the muddy road, stood the long deal coffin, the sheet which covered it, rendered heavy with persistent wet, flapped dismally against the wooden sides of the box. Overhead, a group of rooks were circling whilst uttering their monotonous call. A few women had joined their menfolk attracted by the novelty of the proceedings yielding their momentary comfort to their feeling of curiosity. They had drawn their curdles over their heads and looked like gigantic oval balls, gray or black, with small mud-stained feet peeping out below. Sue had thrown an appealing look at Squire Boatfield when she saw that dismal courtage. Her husband, her prince, the descendant of the Bourbons, the regenerator of France, lying there, unrecognizable, horrible and loathsome in a rough wooden coffin hastily nailed together by a village carpenter. She did not wish to look on him, and with mute eyes begged the Squire to spare her and to spare the old woman, who, through the doorway, had caught sight of the drabby little crowd and of the deal box on the ground. Lambert, too, at the sight of the courtage, had gone to the Quakerus, the kind soul who had cared for him and his brother. Two nameless lads, without home, saved the one she had provided for them. He trusted in Squire Boatfield's sense of humanity not to force this septuagenarian to an effort of nerve and will altogether beyond her powers. Together the two young people were using gentle persuasion to get the old woman to the back room, once she could not see the dreary scene now or presently the slow winding of the dismal little procession down the road which leads to Minster, and once she could not hear that weird flapping of the wet sheet against the side of the coffin and echo to the slow and muffled tolling of the church bell some little distance away. But the old woman was obstinate. She struggled against the persuasion of young arms. Things had been said in her cottage just now, which she must hear more distinctly. Vague accusations had been framed. A cruel and sneering laugh had echoed through the house from whence one of her lads, Adam, was absent. No, no, she said with quiet firmness as Lambert urged her to withdraw. Let be, lad, let be ye cannot deceive the old woman, all of ye. The Lord have put wool in my ears, so I cannot hear. But my eyes are good. I can see your faces. I can read them. Speak, man. She said as she suddenly disengaged herself from Richard's restraining arms and walked deliberately up to Marmaduke de Chevasse. Speak, man, didst thou accuse Adam? An involuntary no escaped from the squires, kindly heart and lips. But Sir Marmaduke shrugged his shoulders. The crisis which by his own acts, by his own cowardice, he himself had precipitated was here now. Fatality had overtaken him. Whether the whole truth would come to light, he did not know. Truly at this moment he hardly cared. He did not feel as if he were himself, but another being before whom stood another Sir Marmaduke de Chevasse, on whom he, a specter, a ghoul, a dream figure, was about to pass judgment. He knew that he need do nothing now, for without his help or any effort on his part, that morbid curiosity which had wracked his brain for two days would be fully satisfied. He would know absolutely now exactly what everyone thought of the mysterious French prince and of his terrible fate on Apple Sands. Thanks Satan and all his hordes of devils, that heavy chalk boulders had done so complete a work of obliteration. But whilst he looked down with complete indifference on the old woman, she looked about from one phase to the other, trying to read what cruel thoughts of Adam lurked behind those obvious expressions of sympathy, so that foreign devil hath done mischief at last. She now said loudly, her tremulous voice gaining in strength as she spoke, the Lord would not allow him to do it living. So the devil hath helped him to it now that he is dead. But I tell you that Adam is innocent. There was no harm in the lad, a little rough at times, but no harm. He'd no father to bring him up, and his mother was a wanton. So there was only the foolish old woman to look after the boys, but there's no harm in the lad, there's no harm. Her voice broke down now in a sob, her throat seemed choked, but with an effort which seemed indeed amazing in one of her years, she controlled her tears, and for a moment was silent. The gray twilight crept in through the door of the cottage, where Matt, bareheaded and humble, still waited for the order to go. Sir Marmaduke would have interrupted the old woman's talk, ere this, but his limbs were now completely paralyzed. He might have been made of stone. So rigid did he feel himself to be a marble image, or else a specter, a shadow figure that existed yet could not move. There was such passionate earnestness in the old woman's words that everyone else remained dumb. Richard, whose heart was filled with dread, who had endured agonies of anxiety since the disappearance of his brother, had but one great desire, which was to spare, to the kind soul, a knowledge which would mean death or worse to her. As for Aditha Deshevas, she was a mere spectator still, so puzzled, so bewildered that she was quite convinced at this moment that she must be mad. She could not encounter Marmaduke's eyes, try how she might. The look in his face horrified her less than it mystified her. She alone, save the murderer himself, knew that the man who lay in that deal coffin out there was not the mysterious foreigner who had never existed, but if not the stranger, then who was it, who was dead? And what had Adam Lambert to do with the whole terrible deed? Sue once more tried to lead Mistress Lambert gently away, but she pushed the young girl aside quite firmly. Ye don't believe me, she asked, looking from one face to the other. Ye don't believe me, yet I tell ye all that Adam is innocent and that the Lord will not allow the innocent to be unjustly condemned. I, he will even let the dead arise, I say, and proclaim the innocence of my lad. Her eyes, with dilated pupils and pale opaque rims, had the look of the seer in them now. She gazed straight out before her into the rain-laden air, and it seemed almost as if in it she could perceive visions of avenging swords, of defending angels, and accusing ghouls that she could hear whispers of muffled voices and feel beckoning hands guiding her to a world peopled by specters and evil beings that prey upon the dead. Let me pass, she said, with amazing vigor as Squire Boatfield, with kindly concern, tried to bar her exit through the door. Let me pass, I say, the dead and I have questions to ask of one another. This is madness, broken Marmadude de Chavasse, with an effort. That body is not a fit sight for a woman to look upon. He would have seized the quakeress by the arm in order to force her back, but Richard Lambert already stood between her and him. Let no one dare to lay a hand on her, he said quietly. And the old woman, escaping from all those who would have restrained her, walked rapidly through the doorway and down the flagged path, rendered slippery with a sleet.  She could scarcely advance, for the wind drove her curdle about her lean thighs and her feet with the heavy tan shoes, sank ankle deep in the puddles formed by the water in the interstices of the flagstones. The rain beat against her face, mingled with the tears, which now flowed freely down her cheeks, but she did not heed the discomfort, nor yet the cold, and she would not be restrained. The next moment she stood beside the rough, wooden coffin, and with a steady hand had lifted the wet sheet, which continued to flap with dull, mournful sound round the feet of the dead. The quakeress looked down upon the figure, stretched out here in death, neither majestic nor peaceful, but horrible and weirdly mysterious. She did not flinch at the sight. Resentment against the foreigner dimmed her sense of horror. So my fine prince, she said, whilst awed at the spectacle of this old woman, parlaying with the dead. Carriers and mourners had instinctively moved a few steps away from her. So thou, what's-t harm, my boy, thou always densed hate him. Thou with thy grand heirs and thy rough ways. Had the Lord allowed it, this hand of thine would ere now have been raised against him, as it oft was raised against the old woman, whose infirmities should have rendered her sacred in thy sight. She stooped and deliberately raised the murdered man's hand in hers, and for one moment fixed her gaze upon it. For that one moment she was silent, looking down at the rough fingers, the coarse nails, the blistered palm. Then, still holding the hand in hers, she looked up, then round at every face which was turned fixedly upon her. Thus she encountered the eyes of the men and women, present here only to witness an unwanted spectacle. Then those of the kindly squire, of Lady Sue, of Mistress de Chevasse, and of her other lad, Richard, all of whom had instinctively followed her down the short, flagged path in the wake of her strange and prophetic pilgrimage. Lastly, her eyes met those of Marmaduke de Chevasse.  I, the Lord is just, she said. The Lord is great. It is the dead which shall rise again and proclaim the innocence of the just and the guilt of the wicked. She paused a while and stooped to kiss the marble-like hand which she held tightly grasped in hers. Adam, she murmured. Adam, my boy, my lad. The men and women looked on, stupidly staring, not understanding yet what new tragedy had suddenly taken the place of the old. Aunt, Aunt, dear, whispered Lambert, who had pushed his way forward and now put his arm round the old woman, for she had begun to sway. What is the matter, dear? He repeated anxiously. What does it mean? And conquering his own sense of horror and repulsion, he tried to disengage the cold and rigid hand of the dead from the trembling grasp of the Quakeress. But she would not relinquish her hold. Only she turned and looked steadily at the young lad, whilst her voice rose firm and harsh above the loud powder of the rain and the moaning of the wind through the distant trees. It means, my lad, she said, it means, all of you, that what I said was true, that Adam is innocent of crime, for he lies here dead, and the Lord will see that his death shall not remain unevented. Once more she kissed the rough hand, beautiful now, with that cold beauty which the rigidity of death imparts, then she replaced it reverently, silently, and fell upon her knees in the wet mud beside the coffin. End of Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Of The Nest Of The Sparrowhawk by Emma Orksy This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Giants, Salt Lake City, Utah. The homecoming of Adam Lambert All heads were bent. None of the ignorant folk who stood around would have dared even to look at the old woman kneeling beside that rough deal box which contained the body of her lad. A reverent feeling had killed all curiosity. Bewilderment at the extraordinary and wholly unexpected turn of events had been merged in a sense of respectful awe, which rendered every mouth silent and lowered every lid. Squire Boatfield, almost paralyzed with astonishment, had murmured half stupidly, Adam Lambert, Dad, I do not understand. He turned to Marmadude de Chavasse as if vaguely instinctively expecting an answer to the terrible puzzle from him. De Chavasse's feet, over which he himself seemed to have no control, had of a truth led him forward so that he too stood not far from the old woman now. He had watched her silent and rigid, conscious only of one thing, a trivial matter, service of Aditha's inquiring eyes fixed steadily upon him. Everything else had been merged in a kind of a dream, but the mute question in those eyes was what concerned him. It seemed to represent the satisfaction of that morbid curiosity which had been such a terrible obsession during these past nerve-wracking days. Aditha, realizing the identity of the dead man, would there and then know the entire truth that Aditha's fate was too closely linked to his own to render her knowledge of that truth dangerous to De Chavasse. Therefore, with him, it was merely a sense of profound satisfaction that someone would henceforth share his secret with him. It was quite impossible to analyze the thoughts of the man who thus stood by a silent and almost impassive spectator of a scene wherein his fate, his life, an awful retribution, and deadly justice were all hanging in the balance. He was not mad, nor did he act with either irrelevance or rashness. The sense of self-protection was still keen in him, violently keen, although undoubtedly he, and he alone, was responsible for the events which culminated in the present crisis. The whole aspect of affairs had changed from the moment that the real identity of the dead had been established. Everyone here present would regard this new mystery in an altogether different light to that by which they had viewed the former weird problem. But still, there need be no danger to the murderer. Aditha would know, of course, but no one else, and it would be vastly curious anon to see what Lady Sue would do. Therefore, Sir Marmaduke was chiefly conscious of Aditha's presence and then only of Sue. Some old woman's folly, he now said roughly, in response to Squire Boatfield's mute inquiry. A while ago she identified the clothes as having belonged to the foreign prince. I, the clothes, Deschabas, murmured the Squire meditatively, the clothes, but not the man, and was you yourself who just now, Master Lambert, should know his own brother. Here came in a suppressed murmur from one or two of the men, who respectfully, before the quality, had now become too excited to keep altogether silent. Of course I know my brother, retorted Richard Lambert boldly, and can but curse my own cowardice in not defending him ere this.  Put my knowledge to the test, Sir, rejoined Lambert, my brother's arm was scarred by a deep cut from shoulder to elbow, caused by the fall of a sharp bladed axe, twas the right arm. Will you see, Sir Marmaduke, or will you allow me to lay bare the right arm of this man to see if I had lied? Squire, Boatfield, conquering his reluctance, had approached nearer to the coffin. He too lifted the dead man's arm, as the old woman had done just now, and he gazed down meditatively at the hand, which, though shapely, was obviously rough and toil-worn. Then, with a firm and deliberate gesture, he undid the sleeve of the doublet and pushed it back, bearing the arm up to the shoulder. He looked at the lifeless flesh for a moment, there where a deep and long scar stood out plainly between the elbow and shoulder, like the veining in a block of marble. Then he pulled the sleeve down again. Neither you, nor Mistress Lambert, have lied, Master. He said simply, Tis Adam Lambert, who lies here, murdered, and if that be so, he continued firmly. Then the man who put these clothes upon the body of the smith is his murderer, the foreigner who called himself Prince Amadé de Orleans, the husband of Lady Sue Oldmarsh, quote Sir Marmaduke, breaking into a loud laugh. The rain had momentarily ceased, although the gale, promising further havoc, still continued that mournful swaying of the dead branches of the trees. But a gentle drip-drip had replaced that incessant patter. The humid atmosphere had long ago penetrated through rough shirts and worsted breeches, causing the spectators of this weird tragedy to shiver with the cold. The shades of evening had begun to gather in. It were useless now to attempt to reach Minster before nightfall, nor presumably would the old Quakeress thus have parted from the dead body of her lab. Richard Lambert had begged that the coffin might be taken into the cottage. The old woman's co-religionist would help her to obtain for Adam fitting and Christian burial. After Sir Marmaduke's sneering taunt, no one had spoken. For these yokels and their women folk, the matter had passed altogether beyond their ken. Bewildered, not understanding, above all, more than half fearful, they consulted one another vaguely and mutely, with eyes and quaint expressive gestures, wondering what had best be done. It was fortunate that the rain had ceased. One by one, the women, still holding their curdles tightly around their shoulders, began to move away. The deal box seemed to have reached a degree of mystery from which it was best to keep at a distance. The men, too, those who had come as spectators, were gradually edging away. Some walked off with their women folk, others hung back in groups of three or four, discussing the most hospitable place to which to are best to adjourn. All wore a strangely shamed expression of timidity, almost of self-deprecation, as if apologetic for their presence here when the quality had matters of such grave import to discuss. No one had really understood Sir Marmaduke's sneering taunt. Only they felt instinctively that there were some secrets which it had been disrespectful even to attempt to guess. Those who had been prepared to carry the coffin to Minster were the last to hang back. Squire Boatfield was obviously giving some directions to their foreman, Matt, who tugged at his forelock at intervals, indicating that he was prepared to obey. The others stood aside, waiting for instructions. Thus the deal box remained on the ground, exactly opposite the tiny wooden gate, strangely isolated and neglected looking after the dispersal of the interested crowd, which had surrounded it a while ago. It seemed as if, with the establishment of the real identity of the dead, the intensity of the excitement had vanished. The mysterious foreigner had a small court around him, Adam Lambert, only his brother and the old Quakerus.  He standing silent and passionately wrathful, both against one man and against destiny. He had almost screamed with horror when Deschavasse thus brutally uttered Lady Sue's name. He had seen the young girl almost sway on her feet as she smothered the cry of agony and horror, which at her guardian's callous taunt had risen to her lips. He had seen and in his heart worshipped her for the heroic effort which she made to remain outwardly calm, not to betray before a crowd the agonizing horror, the awful fear, and the burning shame which of a truth would have crushed most women of her tender years. And because he saw that she did not wish to betray one single thought or emotion, he did not approach, nor attempt to show the overwhelming sympathy which he felt. He knew that any word from him to her would only call forth more malicious sneers from that strange man who seemed to be pursuing Lady Sue and also himself, Lambert, with a tenacious and incomprehensible hatred. Richard remained therefore beside his dead brother's coffin, supporting and anon gently raising the old woman from the ground. Matt, the foreman, had joined his comrades and after a word of explanation they once more gathered round the wooden box, stooping to their task, their sinews cracking under the effort, the perspiration streaming from their foreheads. They raised the mortal remains of Adam Lambert from the ground and hoisted the burden upon their shoulders. Then they turned into the tiny gate and slowly walked with it along the little flagged path to the cottage. The men had to stoop as they crossed the threshold and the heavy box swayed above their powerful shoulders. The Quakerus and Richard followed, going within, in the wake of the six men. The parlor was then empty and thus it was that Adam Lambert finally came home. The others, Squire Boatfield and Mr. Estéchevasse, Lady Sue and Sir Marmaduke, had stood aside in the small forecourt to enable the small courtage to pass. Directly, Richard Lambert and the old woman disappeared within the gloom of the cottage interior. These four people, each individually the prey of harrowing thoughts, once more turned their steps towards the open road. There was nothing more to be done here at this cottage where the veil of mystery, which had fallen over the gruesome murder, had been so unexpectedly lifted by a Septuagenarian's hand. End of Chapter 39 Chapter 40 of The Nest of the Sparrowhawk by Emma Orksy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Giants, Salt Lake City, Utah. Aditha's return. Squire Boatfield was vastly perturbed, never had his position as magistrate seemed so onerous to him, nor his duties as Major General, quite so arduous. A vague and haunting fear had seized him. A fear that if he did do his duty, if he did continue his investigations of the mysterious crime, he would learn something vastly horrible and awesome, something he had best never know. He tried to take indifferent leave of the ladies, yet he quite dreaded to meet Lady Sue's eyes. If all the misery, the terror which she must feel, were expressed in them, then indeed would her young face be a heartbreaking sight for any man to see. He kissed the hand of Aditha de Chevasse and bowed in mute and differential sympathy to the young girl-wife, who of a truth had this day coiffed at one draught, the brimful cup of sorrow and of shame. An inexplicable instinct restrained him from taking de Chevasse's hand. He was quite glad indeed that the latter seemingly absorbed in thoughts was not heeding his going. The squire in his turn now passed out of the little gate. The evening was drying in over rapidly now, and it would be a long and dismal ride from here to Sarra. Fortunately, he had two serving men with him, each with a lantern. They were now standing beside their master's cob, some few yards down the road, which from this point leads in a straight course down to Sarra. Not far from the entrance to the forge, boat-filled saw petty constable Payat, in close converse with master Himofprey's busy butler to sir Marmaduke. The man was talking with great volubility and obvious excitement, and Payat was apparently torn between his scorn for the narrator's garrulousness and his fear of losing something of what the talker had to say. At sight of boat-filled, Payat unceremoniously left master busy, standing, open-mouthed, in the very midst of a voluble sentence, and approached the squire, doffing his cap respectfully, as he did so. Will your honour sign a warrant? he asked. A warrant? What warrant? queried the worthy squire, who, of a truth, was falling from puzzlement to such absolute bewilderment, that he felt literally as if his head would burst with the weight of so much mystery, and with the knowledge of such dire infamy. I think that the scoundrel is cleverer than we thought. Your honour, continued the petty constable, we must not allow him to escape. I am quite bewildered, murmured the squire, what is the warrant for? For the apprehension of the man, whom the folk about here called the Prince of Orleans, I can set the watches on the go this very night. Nay, they shall scour the countryside to some purpose. The murderer cannot be very far. We know that he is dressed in the Smith's clothes. We'll get him soon enough, but he may have friends. Friends? He may have been a real prince, your honour, said Payat, with a laugh, which contradicted his own suggestion. I, I, may have. He may have powerful friends, or such as would resist the watches. Resist us, may have. A warrant would be useful. I, I, you are right, constable, said Boatfield, still a little bewildered. Do you come along to Sarah with me? I'll give you a warrant this very night. Have you a horse here? Nay, your honour, rejoined the man, and it please you, my going to Sarah would delay matters, and the watches could not start their search this night. Then what am I to do? exclaimed the squire, somewhat impatient, of the whole thing now, longing to get away, and to forget, beside his own comfortable fireside, all the harrowing excitement of this unforgettable day. Young Lambert is a bookworm, your honour, suggested Payat, who was keen on the business, seeing that his zeal, if accompanied by success, would surely mean promotion. There will be ink and paper in the cottage, and your honour would but write a few words and sign them, something I could show to a commanding officer, if perchance I needed the help of soldiery, or to the chief constable resident at Dover, for me thinks some of us must push on that way. Your honour must forgive. We should be blamed, punished, may have, if we allowed such a scoundrel to remain unhung. As you will, man, as you will, sigh the worthy squire impatiently, but wait, he added, as Payat overjoyed, had already turned towards the cottage, wait until Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse and the ladies have gone. He called his serving men to him, and ordered them to start on their way towards home, but to wait for him, with his cob, at the bend of the road, just in the rear of the little church, some instinct for which he could not rightly have accounted roused in him the desire to keep his return to the cottage a secret from Sir Marmaduke. Attended by Payat, he followed his men down the road, and the angle of the cottage soon hid him from view. De Chavasse, in the meanwhile, had ordered his own men to escort the ladies home. Busy and too good, lighted their lanterns, whilst Sue and Aditha, wrapping their cloaks and hoods closely round their heads and shoulders, prepared to follow them, and on the little procession began slowly to wind its way back towards a coal court. Sir Marmaduke lingered behind for a while of set purpose. He had no wish to walk beside either Aditha or Lady Sue, so he took some time in mounting his nag, which had been tethered in the rear of the forge. His intention was to keep the men with the lanterns in sight, for though there was no dangerous footpaths in Thanet, yet Sir Marmaduke's mood was not one that courted isolation on a dark and lonely road. Therefore, just before he saw the dim lights of the lanterns disappearing down the road, which at this point makes a sharp dip before rising abruptly once more on the outskirts of the wood, Sir Marmaduke finally put his foot in the stirrup and started to follow. The mare had scarce gone a few paces before he saw the figure of a woman detaching itself from the little group on ahead, and then turning and walking rapidly back towards the village. He could not immediately distinguish which of the two ladies it was, for the figure was totally hidden behind the ample folds of cloak and hood, but soon as it approached he perceived that it was Aditha. He would have stopped her by barring the way. He even thought of dismounting, thinking may have, that she had left something behind at the cottage and cursing his men for allowing her to return alone. But quick as a flash of lightning she ran past him, dragging her hood closer over her face as she ran. He hesitated for a few seconds, wondering what it all meant. He even turned the mare's head round to see whether Aditha was going. She had already reached the railing and gate in front of the cottage. The next moment she had lifted the latch, and Sir Marmaduke could see her blurred outline through the rising mist walking quickly along the flagged path, and then he heard her peremptory knock at the cottage door. He waited a while, musing, checking the mare, who longed to be getting home. He fully expected to see Aditha return within the next minute or so, for vaguely through the fast gathering gloom he had perceived that someone had opened the door from within, a thin ray of yellowish light falling on Aditha's cloaked figure, then she disappeared into the cottage. On ahead the swaying lights of the lanterns were rapidly becoming more and more indistinguishable in the distance. Apparently, Aditha's departure from out the little group had not been noticed by the others. The men were ahead, and Sue, may have, was too deeply absorbed in thought to pay much heed as to what was going on round her. Sir Marmaduke still hesitated. Aditha was not returning, and the cottage door was once more closed. Courtesy demanded that he should wait so as to escort her home, but the fact that she had gone back to the cottage at risk of having to walk back all alone and along a dark and dreary road bore a weird significance to this man's tortuous mind. Aditha, troubled with a mass of vague fears and horrible conjectures, had, may have, desired to have them sat at rest or else to hear their final and terrible confirmation. In either case, Marmaduke de Chivas had no wish now for a slow amble homewards in company with the one being in the world who knew him for what he was. That thought, and also the mad desire to get away at last, to cease with this fateful procrastination and to fly from this country with the golden booty which he had gained at such awful risks. These caused him finally to turn the mayor's head towards home, leaving Aditha to follow as best she might in the company of one of the serving men whom he would send back to meet her. The mayor was ready to go. He spurred her to a sharp trot. Then, having joined the little group on ahead, he sent Master Courage Tugut back with his lantern with orders to inquire at the cottage for Mistress de Chivas and there to await her pleasure. He asked Lady Sue to mount behind him, but this she refused to do, so he put his nag back to foot space and thus the much-diminished little party slowly walked back to Eichel Court. End of Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Of the Nest of the Sparrowhawk by Emma Orksey This liprivox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne Giants, Salt Lake City, Utah. Their name. What had prompted Aditha de Chivas to return, thus alone, to the Quakeris's cottage, she herself could not exactly have told.  With Adam Lambert lying dead, obviously murdered, and in the clothes affected by de Chivas when masquerading as the French hero, there could be only one conclusion. But this to Aditha, who throughout had given a helping hand in the management of the monstrous comedy, was so awful a solution of the puzzle that she could not but recoil from it and strive to deny it while she had one sane thought left in her madly whirling brain. But though she fought against the conclusion with all her might, she did not succeed in driving it from her thoughts, and through it all there was a vein of uncertainty that slender thread of hope that after all she might be the prey of some awful delusion, which a word from someone who really knew would a non-easily dissipate, someone who really knew, nay, that someone could only be Marmaduke, and of him she dared not ask questions. May have that on the other hand the old woman and Richard Lambert knew more than they had cared to say. Sue was indeed deeply absorbed in thoughts, walking with head bent and eyes fixed on the ground like a sub-nambulist. Adith, moved by unreasoning instinct, determined to see the quakeress again. Also, the man who now lay dead, hoping that from him may have, she might glean the real solution of that mystery, which sooner or later would undoubtedly drive her mad. Running rapidly past horse and rider, for she would not speak to Marmaduke, she reached the cottage soon enough. In response to her knock, Master Lambert opened the door to her. The dim light of a couple of tallow candles flickered weirdly in the draft. Aditha looked around her in amazement, astonished that, like herself, Squire Boatfield had also evidently retraced his steps and was sitting now in one of the high-backed chairs beside the hearth, whilst the old quakeress stood not far from him. Her attitude, indicative of obstinacy, even of defiance, in the face of a duty with which, apparently, the Squire had been charging her. At sight of Mistress de Chevasse Boatfield rose. A look of annoyance crossed his face at thought that Aditha's arrival had may have endangered the success of his present purpose. Ink and paper were on the table close to his elbow, and it was obvious that he had been questioning the old woman very closely on a subject which she apparently desired to keep secret from him. Mistress Lambert's attitude had also changed at sight of Aditha, who stood for a moment undecided on the threshold ere she ventured within. The look of obstinacy died out of the wrinkled face. The eyes took on a strange expression of sullen wrath. Enter, my fine lady, I pray thee, enter, said the quakeress. Art also a party to these cross-questionings. Art anxious to probe the secrets which the old woman hath kept hidden within the walls of this cottage. She laughed, a low, chuckling laugh, mirthless and almost cruel, as she surveyed Aditha's cloaked figure, and then the ladies scared and anxious face. Nay, I crave your pardon, Mistress, said Aditha, feeling oddly timid before the strange personality of the quakeress. I would of a truth desire to ask your help, and and I would not intrude, and I, nay, nay, prithee, enter, fair Mistress, rejoined Mistress Lambert dryly. Strange that I should hear thy words so plainly. Thy words seem to find echo in my brain, raising memories which thou hast buried long ago. Enter, I prithee, and sit thee down, she added, shuffling towards the chair.  The squire is asking many questions, may have that I'll answer them, now that she is here. In obedience to the quaint peremptoriness of her manner, Richard had closed the outer door and drawn the chair forward, asking Mistress de Chevasse to sit. Squire Boatfield, who was visibly embarrassed, was still standing and tried to murmur some excuse, being obviously anxious to curtail this interview and to postpone his further questionings. I'll come some other time, Mistress, he said, with obvious nervousness, Mistress de Chevasse desires to speak with you, and I'll return later on in the evening when you are alone. Nay, nay, man, rejoined the quakerous, prithee, sit again, the evening is young yet, and what I may tell thee now has something to do with this fine lady here. Wilt question me again, I would, may have reply. She stood close to the table, one wrinkled hand resting upon it. The guttering candles cast strange, fantastic lights on her old face, surmounted with the winged quaff and weird shadows down one side of her face. Aditha, odd and subdued, gazed on her with a kind of fear, even of horror. In a dark corner of the little room, the straight outline of the long deal box could only faintly be perceived in the gloom. Richard Lambert, silent and oppressed, stood close beside it, his face in shadow, his eyes fixed with a sense of inexplicable premonition on the face of Aditha de Chevasse. Now, wilt question me again, man, asked the old quakerous, turning to the squire. The Lord hath willed that my ears be clear today. Wilt question me, I'll hear thee, and I'll give answer to thy questions. Nay, mistress, replied the squire, pointing to the ink and the paper on the table, me thought you would wish to see the murderer of your nephew swing on the gallows for his crime. I would sign this paper here, ordering the murderer of the Smith of Acol to be apprehended as soon as found, and to be brought forth with before the magistrate, there to give an account of his doings. I asked you, then, to give me the full Christian and surname of the man whom the neighborhood and myself thought was your nephew, and to my surprise you seemed to hesitate, and I'll hesitate no longer. She interposed firmly. Let the lad there ask me his dead brother's name, and I'll tell him, I'll tell him if he asks. Justice must be done against Adam's murderer, dear mistress, said Richard gently, for the old woman had paused and turned to him, evidently waiting for him to speak. My brother's real name, his parentage, might explain the motive which led an evildoer to commit such an appalling crime. Therefore, dear mistress, do I ask thee to tell us my brother's name and mine own. Tis well done, lad, tis well done, she rejoined, when Richard had ceased speaking, and silence had fallen for a while on that tiny cottage parlor. Tis well done, she reiterated, the secret hath weighed heavily upon my old shoulders these past few years, since thou and Adam were no longer children. But I swore to thy grandmother, who died in the Lord, that thou and Adam should never hear of thy mother's wantonness and shame. I swore it on her deathbed, and I have kept my oath. But I am old now. After this trouble, my hour will surely come. I am prepared, but I will not take thy secret lad with me into my grave. She shuffled across to the old oak dresser, which occupied one wall of the little room. Two pairs of glowing eyes followed her every movement. Those of Richard Lambert, who seemed to see a vision of his destiny faintly outlined, still blurred, but slowly unfolding itself in the tangled web of fate. And then those of Aditha, who even as the old woman spoke, had felt a tidal wave of long-forgotten memories sweeping right over her senses. The look in the Quakeris's eyes, the words she uttered, though still obscure and enigmatic, had already told her the whole truth.  She saw her own mother, rigid and dour, the counterpart of this same old Puritan, who had not hesitated to part to children from their mother for over a score of years, any more than she hesitated now to fling insult upon insult on the wretched woman who had more than paid her debt to her own careless frivolity of long ago. Thy brother's name was Henry Adam de Chevasse, and thine Michael Richard de Chevasse, sons of Roland de Chevasse, and of the wanton who was his wife. The old woman had taken a packet of papers, yellow with age, and stained with many tears, from out a secret drawer of the old oak dresser. Her voice was no longer tremulous as it was want to be, but firm and dull, monotonous in tone, like that of one who speaks whilst in a trance. Squire Boatfield had uttered an exclamation of boundless astonishment. Mechanically, he took the packet of papers from the Quakerus's hand, and after an instant's hesitation and in response to an appealing look from Richard, he broke the string which held the documents together and perused them one by one. But Aditha, even as the last of the old woman's words ceased to echo in the newer room, had risen to her feet. Her heavy cloak glided off her shoulders down upon the ground. Her eyes, preternaturally large, glowed, and full of awe, were now fixed upon the young man, her son. De Chevasse, she murmured, her brain whirling, her heart filled not only with an awful terror, but also with a great and overwhelming joy. My sons, then I am, but with a peremptory gesture the Quakerus had stopped the word in her mouth. Nay, she said loudly, do not pollute that sacred name by letting it pass through thy lips. Women such as thou were not made for motherhood, thy own mother knew that when she took thy children from thee and cursed thee on her deathbed for thy sins and for thy shame, the sons were honest, God-faring men, but tis no thanks to thee.  The Quakerus paused a moment, her pale, opaque eyes lighted with an inward glow of wrath and of satisfied vengeance. She and her dead friend and all their co-religious had hated the woman who, in defiance of her own peritannic upbringing, had cast aside her friends and her home in order to throw herself in that vortex of pleasure which her mother considered evil and infamous. Together they had all rejoiced over this woman's subsequent humiliation, her sorrow and longing for her children, the ceaseless search, the ever-recurrent disappointments. Now the Quakerus's hour had come, hers and that of the whole of the dower's sect who had taken it upon itself to punish and to avenge. Aditha shamed and miserable, not even daring now to approach her own son and to beg for affection with a look stood quite rigid and pale, allowing the torrent of the old woman's pent-up hatred to fall upon her and to crush her with its rough cruelty. Squire Boatfield would have interposed. He had glanced at the various documents, the proofs of what the old woman had asserted, and was satisfied that the horrible tale of what seemed to him unparalleled cruelty was indeed true and that the narrow bigotry of a community had succeeded in performing that monstrous crime of parting this wretched woman for 20 years from her sons. Vaguely in his mind, the kindly Squire hoped that he, as magistrate, could fitly punish this crime of child stealing and the expression with which he now regarded the old Quakeress was certainly not one of goodwill. Mistress Lambert had, in the meanwhile, approached Aditha. She now took the younger woman's hand in hers and dragged her towards the coffin.   Curse thee now that retribution has come at last. Her words died away as some mournful echo against these whitewashed walls. For a moment she stood wrathful and defiant upright and stern, like a judiciary between the dead son and the miserable woman, who of a truth was suffering almost unendurable agony of mind and of heart. Then, in the midst of the awesome silence that followed on that loudly spoken curse, there was the sound of a firm footstep on the rough deal floor, and the next moment, Michael Richard de Chevasse was kneeling beside his mother and covering her icy cold hand with kisses. A heartbroken moan escaped her throat. She stooped and, with trembling lips, gently touched the young head, bent in simple love and unenquiring reverence before her. Then without a word, without a look cast either at her cruel enemy or at the silent spectator of this terrible drama, she turned and ran rapidly out of the room, out into the dark and dismal night. With a deep sigh of content, Mistress Lambert fell on her knees and thence upon the floor. The old heart which had contained so much love and so much hatred, such stern self-sacrifice and such deadly revenge had ceased to beat. Now the worker's work was done. Chapter 42 of the Nest of the Sparrowhawk by Emma Orksy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Giants, Salt Lake City, Utah. The Return. Master Courage, too good, had long ago given up all thought of waiting for the mistress he had knocked repeatedly at the door of the cottage from behind the thick panels of which he had heard loud and he thought angry voices speaking words which he could not, however, quite understand. No answer had come to his knocking and tired with the excitement of the day, fearful, too, at the thought of the lonely walk which now awaited him. He chose to believe that may have he had either misunderstood his master's orders or that Sir Marmaduke himself had been mistaken when he thought the mistress back at the cottage. These surmises were vastly to Master Courage, too good's liking, whose name somewhat belied his timid personality, swinging his lantern and striving to keep up his spirits by the aid of a lusty song, he resolutely turned his steps towards home. The whole landscape seemed filled with eeriness. The events of the day had left their impress on this dark November night, causing the size of the gale to seem more spectral and weird than usual, and the dim outline of the trees with their branches turned away from the coastline to seem like unhappy spirits with thin gaunt arms stretched dejectedly out toward the unresponsive distance. Master, too good, tried not to think of ghosts nor of the many stories of pixies and goblins which are said to take a malicious pleasure in the timorousness of mankind, but of a truth he nearly uttered a cry of terror and would have fallen on his knees in the mud when a dark object quite undistinguishable in the gloom suddenly loomed before him. Yet this was only the portly figure of Master Piot, the petty constable who seemed to be mounting guard just outside the cottage and who was vastly amused at too good's fusillanimity. He entered into converse with the young man, no doubt he, too, had been feeling somewhat lonely in the midst of this darkness which was peopled with unseen shadows. Master Courage was ready enough to talk. He had acquired some of Master Busy's eloquence on the subject of secret investigations and the mystery which had gained an intensity this afternoon through the revelations of the old Quakerus was an all-engrossing one to all. The attention which Piot vouchsafed to his narration greatly enhanced Master too good's own delight therein, more especially as the petty constable had, as if instinctively, measured his steps with those of the younger man and was accompanying him on his way towards the court. Courage told his attentive listener all about Master Busy's surmises and his determination to probe the secrets of the mysterious crime which, to be quite truthful, the worthy butler with the hard toes had scented long air it was committed, seeing that he used to spend long hours in vast discomfort in the forked branches of the old elms which surrounded the pavilion at the boundary of the park. Too good had no notion if Master Busy had ever discovered anything of interest in the neighborhood of that pavilion and he was quite quite sure that the saintly man had never dared to venture inside that archaic building which had the reputation of being haunted. Still he was over gratified to perceive that the petty constable was vastly interested in his tale in spite of these obvious defects in its completeness and that moreover, Master Payat showed no signs of turning on his heel that continued to trudge along the gloomy road in company with Sir Marmaduke's youngest serving man. Thus Aditha, when she ran out of Mistress Lambert's cottage, her ears ringing with the fanatics curses, her heart breaking with the joy of that reverent filial kiss imprinted upon her hands, found the road and the precincts of the cottage entirely deserted. The night was pitch dark after the rain, great heavy clouds still hung above and an icy blast caught her skirts as she lifted the latch of the gate and turned into the open. But she cared little about the inclementcy of the weather, she knew her way about well enough and her mind was too full of terrible thoughts of what was real to yield to the subtle and feeble fears engendered by imaginings of the supernatural. Nay, she would may have have welcomed the pixies and goblins who by mischievous pranks had claimed her attention. They would, of a truth, have diverted her mind from the contemplation of that awful and monstrous deed accomplished by the man whom she would meet anon. If he whom the villagers had called Adam Lambert was her son, Henry Adam de Chevasse, then Sir Marmaduke was the murderer of her child. All the curses which the old Quakeress had so vengefully poured upon her were as nothing compared with that awful, that terrible fact. Her son had been murdered, her eldest son whom she had never known, and she involuntarily may have, compulsorily, certice, had in a measure helped to bring about those events which had culminated in that appalling crime. She had known of Marmaduke's monstrous fraud on the confiding girl whom he now so callously abandoned to her fate. She had known of it and helped him towards its success by luring her other son, Richard, to that vile gambling den where he had all but lost his honor or else his reason. This knowledge and the help she had given was the real curse upon her. Now, a curse far more horrible and deadly than that which had driven Cain forth into the wilderness, this knowledge and the help she had given had stained her hands with the blood of her own child. No wonder that she sighed for ghouls and for shadowy monsters, while nylonging for a sight of distorted faces, of ugly, deformed bodies, and loathsome shapes, far less hideous than that specter of an inhuman homicide which followed her along this dark road as she ran, ran on, ran towards the home where dwelt the living monster of evil, the man who had done the deed which she had helped to accomplish. Complete darkness reigned all around her. She could not see a yard of the road in front of her, but she went on blindly, guided by instinct, led by that unseen shadow which was driving her on. All around her the gale was moaning in the creaking branches of the trees, branches which were like arms stretched forth in appeal towards the unattainable. Her progress was slow for she was walking in the very teeth of the hurricane and her shoes ever and anon remained glued to the slimy mug, but the road was straight enough. She knew it well and she felt neither fatigue nor discomfort. Of Sue she did not think. The wrongs done to the defenseless girl were as nothing to her compared with the irreparable, the wrongs done to her sons, the living and the dead, for the one the foul dagger of an inhuman assassin for the other shame and disgrace, Sue was young. She would soon forget. The girl wife would soon regain her freedom, but what of the mother who had on her soul the taint of the murder of her child? The gate leading to the court from the road was wide open. It had been left so for her, no doubt, when Sir Marmaduke returned. The house itself was dark, no light, save one pierced the interstices of the ill-fitting shutters. Aditha paused a moment at the gate, looking at the house, a great black mass blacker than the surrounding gloom. That had been her home for many years now, ever since her youth and sprightliness had vanished, and she had had nowhere to go for shelter. It had been her home ever since Richard, her youngest boy, had entered it too as a dependent. Oh, what an immeasurable fool she had been, how she had been tricked and fooled all these years by the man who, two days ago, had put a crown upon his own infamy. He knew where the boys were, he helped to keep them away from their mother, so as to filch from them their present and, above all, future inheritance, how she loathed him now and loathed herself for having allowed him to drag her down. Eye of a truth he had wronged her worse even than he had wronged his brother's sons. She fixed her eyes steadily on the one light, which alone pierced the inky blackness of the solid mass of the house. It came from the little withdrawing room, which was on the left of this entrance to the hall. But the place itself, beyond just that one tiny light, appeared quite silent and deserted, even from the stable yard on her right and from the serving man's quarters, not a sound came to mingle with the weird whisperings of the wind. Aditha approached and, stooping to the ground, she groped in the mud until her hands encountered two or three pebbles. She picked them up, then going close to the house, she threw those pebbles one by one against the half-closed shutter of the withdrawing room. The next moment she heard the latch of the casement window being lifted from within, and a non-the rickety shutter flew back with a thin creaking sound like that of an animal in pain. The upper part of Sir Marmaduke's figure appeared in the window embrasure, like a dark and massive silhouette against the yellowish light from within. He stooped forward, seeming to peer into the darkness. Is that you, Aditha? He queried presently. Yes, she replied, open. She then waited a moment or two, whilst he closed both the shutter and the window, she standing the while on the stone step before the portico. In the stillness, she could hear him open the drying room door, then cross the hall and finally unbolt the heavy outer door. She pushed past him over the threshold and went into the gloomy hall, pitch-dark, save for the flickering light of the candle, which he held. She waited until he had reclosed the door, then she stood quite still, confronting him, allowing him to look into her face, to read the expression of her eyes. In order to do this, he had raised the candle, his hand trembling perceptibly, and the feeble light quivered in his grasp, illuminating her face at fitful intervals, creeping down her rigid shoulders and arms as far as her hands, which were tightly clenched. It danced upon his face, too, lighting it with weird gleams and fitful sparks, showing the wild look in his eyes, the glitter almost of madness, in the dilated pupils, the dark iris sharply outlined against the glassy orbs. It licked the trembling lips and distorted mouth, the drawn nostrils and dank hair, almost alive with that nameless fear. You would denounce me, he murmured, and the cry, choked and toneless, could scarce rise from the dry, parched throat. Yes, she said, he uttered a violent curse. You devil, you, you have time to go, she said calmly, tis a long while twext now and on. He understood. She only would denounce him if he stayed. She wished him no evil, only desired him out of her sight. He tried to say something flippant, something cruel and sneering, but she stopped him with a peremptory gesture.  For a moment she thought that her life was in danger at his hands, so awful in its baffled rage, was the expression of his face when he understood that indeed she knew everything.  He could never succeed in hiding that crime, and retributive justice would of assurity overtake him then without any help from her. No doubt he too thought of this as the weird flicker of the candlelight showed him her unflinching face. For the next moment with another muttered curse and a careless shrug of the shoulders he turned on his heel and slowly went upstairs, candle in hand. Aditha watched him until his massive figure was merged in the gloom of the heavy oak stairway. Then she went into the withdrawing room and waited. End of Chapter 42 Chapter 43 of The Nest of the Sparrowhawk by Emma Orksey. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Giants, Celtic City, Utah. The Sands of Apple. Five minutes later Sir Marmaduke de Chivas clad in thick dark doublet and breeches and wearing a heavy cloak once more descended the stairs of Acle Court. He saw the light in the withdrawing room and knew that Aditha was there, mutely watching his departure. But he did not care to speak to her again. His mind had been quickly made up. Nay, his actions in the immediate future should of a truth have been accomplished two days ago ere the meadowsomeness of women had well nigh jeopardized his own safety. All he meant to do now was to go quickly to the pavilion, find the leather wallet, then return to his own stable yard, saddle one of his necks, and start forthwith for Dover. Eighteen miles would soon be covered and though the night was dark, the road was straight and broad. De Chivas knew it well and had little fear of losing his way. With plenty of money in his purse he would have no difficulty in chartering a boat, which with a favorable tide on the morrow should soon take him over to France.  He did not cross the hall this time, but went out through the dining room by the garden entrance. Not a glimmer of light came from above, but as he descended the few stone steps he felt that a few soft flakes of snow tossed by the hurricane were beginning to fall. Of course he knew every inch of his own garden and park and had oft wandered about on the further side of the ha-ha whilst indulging in lengthy, sweetly spoken farewells with his love sick Sue. Absorbed in the thoughts of his immediate future plans, he nevertheless walked along cautiously for the paths had become slippery with the snow which froze quickly even as it fell. He did not pause, however, for he wished to lose no time. If he was to ride to Dover this night he would have to go at foot pace for the road would be like glass if this snow and ice continued. Moreover he was burning to feel that wallet once more between his fingers and to hear the welcome sound of the crushing of crisp papers. He had plunged resolutely into the thickness of the wood. Here he could have gone blindfolded so oft had he trodden this path which leads under the overhanging elms straight to the pavilion walking with Sue's little hand held tightly clasped in his own. The spiritual presence of the young girl seemed even now to pervade the thicket, her sweet fragrance to fill the frost laden air. Bah, he was not the man to indulge in retrospective fancy. The girl was not to him and there was no sense of remorse in his soul for the terrible wrongs which he had inflicted on her. All that he thought of now was the wallet which contained the fortune that which would forever compensate him for the agony, the madness of the past two days. The bend behind that last group of elms should now reveal the outline of the pavilion. Sir Marmaduke advanced more cautiously for the trees here were very close together. The next moment he had paused, crouching suddenly like a carnivorous beast, bulked of its prey. There of a truth was the pavilion, but on the steps three men were standing, talking voluably and in whispers. Two of these men carried stable lanterns and were obviously guiding their companion up to the door of the pavilion. The light of the lanterns illumined one face after another. De Chavas recognized his two serving men busy and too good. The man who was with them was petty constable Paiot. Marmaduke with both hands clutching the ivy which clung round the gnarled stem of an old elm watched from out the darkness what these three men were doing here beside this pavilion which had always been so lonely and deserted he could not distinguish what they said for they spoke in whispers and the creaking branches groaning beneath the wind drowned every sound which came from the direction of the pavilion and the listener on the watch straining his every sense in order to hear dare not creep any closer lest he be perceived and on the three men examined the door of the pavilion and shaking the rusty bolts found that they would not yield but evidently they were of set purpose for the next moment all three put their shoulder to the worm eaten would work and after the third vigorous effort the door yielded to their assault men and lanterns disappeared within the pavilion Sir Marmaduke heard an ejaculation of surprise then one of profound satisfaction for the space of a few seconds he remained rooted to the spot it almost seemed to him as if with the knowledge that the wallet and the discarded clothes of the smith had been found with the certitude that this discovery meant his own undoing probably and in any case the final loss of the fortune for which he had plotted and planned lied and masqueraded killed a man and cheated a girl that with the knowledge of all this death descended upon him so cold did he feel so unable was he to make the slightest movement but this numbness only lasted a few seconds obviously the three men would return in a minute or so equally obviously his own presence here if discovered would mean certain ruin to him even while he was making the effort to collect his scattered senses and to move from this fateful and dangerous spot he saw the three men reappear in the doorway of the pavilion the breeches and rough shirt of the smith hung over the arm of him of praise busy the dark stain on the shirt was plainly visible by the light of one of the lanterns petty constable piot had the leather wallet in his hand and was peeping down with grave curiosity at the bundle of papers which it contained then with infinite caution marmaduke de chivas worked his way between the trees towards the old wall which encircled his park the three men obviously would be going back either to a cold court or may have straight to the village sir marmaduke knew of a gap in the wall which it was quite easy to climb even in the dark a path through the thicket at that point led straight out towards the coast he had struck that path from the road on the night when he met the smith on the cliffs the snow only penetrated in sparse flakes to the thicket here although the branches of the trees were dead they interlaced so closely overhead that they formed ample protection against the wet but the fury of the gale seemed terrific amongst these trees and the groaning of the branches seemed like weird cries proceeding from hell and on the midnight walker reached the open here a carpet of coarse grass peeping through the thin layer of snow gave insecure foothold he stumbled as he pursued his way he was walking in the teeth of the north westerly blast now and he could scarcely breathe for the great gusts caught his throat causing him to choke still he walked resolutely on i see moisture clung to his hair and to his lips and soon he could taste the brine in the air the sound of the breakers some 90 feet below mingled weirdly with the groans of the wind he knew the path well had he not trodden it three nights ago on his way to meet the smith already in the gloom he could distinguish the broken line of the cliffs sharply defined against the gray density of the horizon as he drew nearer the roar of the breakers became almost deafening a heavy sea was rolling in on the breast of the tide still he walked along towards the brow of the cliffs soon he could distinguish the irregular heap of chalk against which adam had stood whilst he had held the lantern in one hand and gripped the knife in the other the hurricane nearly swept him off his feet he had much ado to steady himself against that heap of chalk the snow had covered his cloak and his hat and he liked to think that he too now snow covered must look like a monstrous chalk boulder weird and motionless outlined against the leaden grayness of the ocean beyond the smith was not by his side now there was no lantern no paper no double edged dagger down nearly a hundred feet below the smith had lain until the turn of the tide the man's eyes becoming accustomed to the gloom could distinguish the points of the great boulders springing boldly from out the sand the surf as it broke all round and over them was tipped with a phosphorescent light the gale in sheer wantonness caught the midnight prowler's hat and with a wild sound as of the detonation of a hundred guns tossed it to the waves below the snow in a few moments had thrown a white pale over the watchers head he could see quite clearly the tall boulder untouched by the tide on which he had placed the black silk shade that night also the broad brimmed hat so that these things should be found high and dry and be easily recognizable some 20 feet further on was the smooth stretch of sand where had lain the smith after he had been dressed up in the fantastic clothes of the mysterious french prince marmaduke deschevaux gazed upon that spot the breakers licked it now and again leaving behind them as they retreated a track of slimy foam which showed white in this strange gray gloom rendered alive and moving by the falling snow the surf covered that stretch of sand more and more frequently now and retreated less and less far the slimy foam floated now over an inky pool soon that too disappeared the breakers sought other boulders round which to play their titanic hide and seek the tide had completely hidden the place where adam lambert had lain then the watcher walked on one step and then another and then the one beyond the edge as he stepped down down into the abyss 90 feet below end of chapter 43 chapter 44 of the nest of the sparrow hawk by emma orksie this libra vox recording is in the public domain recording by dion jines subtlake city utah the epilogue the chronicles of the time tell us that the mysterious disappearance of sir marmaduke day chivas was but a nine days wonder in that great world which lies beyond the boundaries of secret than it what than it thought of it all the little island kept secret hiding its surmises in the thicket of her own archaic forest squire boatfield did his best to wrap the disappearance of his while a friend in impenetrable veils of mystery he was a humane and a kindly man and feeling that the guilty had been amply punished he set to work to cheer and to rehabilitate the innocent all of us who have read the memoirs of aditha day chivas written when she was a woman of nearly 60 remember that she too has drawn a thick curtain over the latter days of her brother-in-law's life it is to her pen that we owe the record of what happened subsequently she tells us for instance how masters giffington after sundry interviews with my lord north allerton had the honor of bringing to his lordship's notice the young student so long known as richard lambert who of a truth was so air to the earldom and to its magnificent possessions and dependencies from the memoirs of adith day chivas we also know that lady sue altmarsh girl wife and widow did after a period of mourning mary michael richard day chivas soul surviving nephew and heir presumptive of his lordship the earl of north allerton but it is to the brush of sir peter levy that we owe that exquisite portrait of sue when she was countess of north allerton the friend of queen kathryn the acknowledged beauty at the court of the restoration it is a sweet face where on the half obliterated lines of sorrow vie with that look of supreme happiness which first crept into her eyes when she realized that the dear and constant friend who had loved her so dearly was as true to her in his joy as he had been in those dark days when a terrible crisis had well-nigh wracked her life lord and lady north allerton did not often stay in london the brilliance of the court had few attractions for them happiness came to them after terrible sorrows they liked to hide it and their great love in the calm and mystery of forest covered annet the end end of chapter 44 and of the nest of the sparrow hawk a romance of the 17th century by baroness amma orksie