Part 64 (1/2)

Her face became pinched and livid. She understood now, after the event.

”I am frightened for him,” she said.

The Bishop had been alarmed while she poured out his tea before they began to talk.

”Perhaps he has gone back to London,” she said, her eyes widening with a vague dread.

The Bishop had gone on to the station, and had ascertained that Hugh had not left by the one train which had stopped at Southminster between seven and nine. But he did not add to her anxiety by saying so.

The doctor's brougham, coming at full speed, drew up suddenly at the door.

”There he is at last,” said the Bishop, and before the bell could be rung he opened the door.

A figure was already on the threshold, but it was not Dr. Brown. It was d.i.c.k.

”Where is Dr. Brown?” said Rachel and the Bishop simultaneously, looking at the doctor's well-known brougham and smoking horses.

”He asked me to come,” said d.i.c.k, measuring Rachel with his eye. Then he did as he would be done by, and added, slowly: ”He was kept. He was on his way here from Wilderleigh, where one of the servants is ill, and as I was dining there he offered me a lift back. And when we were pa.s.sing that farm near the wood a man stopped us. He said there had been an accident--some one nearly drowned. I went, too. It turned out to be Scarlett. Dr. Brown remained with him, and sent me to take you to him.”

”Is he dead?” asked Rachel, her eyes never leaving d.i.c.k's face.

”No, but he is very ill.”

”I will come now.”

The chaplain came slowly across the hall, laden with books and papers.

”Let Canon Sebright know at once that I cannot take part in the service,” said the Bishop, sharply; and he hurried down the steps after Rachel, and got into the carriage with her. d.i.c.k turned up the collar of his fur coat, and climbed up beside the coachman.

The carriage turned warily, and then set off at a great pace.

The cathedral loomed up suddenly, all aglow with light within. Out into the night came the dirge of the organ for the dying year.

The Bishop kept his eyes fixed on the pane. The houses were left behind.

They were in the country.

”Who is that?” said Rachel, suddenly, as a long shadow ran beside them along the white hedgerow.

”It is only d.i.c.k. There is a rise in the ground here, and he is running to ease the horses.”

There was a long silence.

”I believe he did it on purpose,” said Rachel, at last. ”I forsook him in his great need, and now he has forsaken me.”

”He would never forsake you, Rachel.”

”Not knowingly,” she said. ”I did it knowing. That is the difference between him and me.”

She did not speak again.