“I think that I hear the sound of wheels,” observed the vicar; “yes,—some vehicle is evidently slowly ascending the steep hill before us.”
“Surely that of Dr. G—— upon its return,” suggested Ida.
The idea made all quicken their steps. Ida’s guess had been partially correct; in front was the expected chaise, moving as if towards the station.
As soon as the vehicle was sufficiently near, Mr. Aumerle hailed the driver:—
“Whence do you come, my friend?”
“From Cliff Cottage,” replied a rough voice through the darkness, and then the panting of a horse was heard.
“Is it the doctor?” exclaimed Annabella, pressing eagerly forward.
“No,” replied the voice. “A gentleman is ill; the doctor is staying the night; I’m to return for him in the morning;” and the speaker cracked his whip as a signal to the weary horse to move forward.
Arrangements were speedily made with the driver by Mr. Aumerle; the conveyance was turned round at the first convenient spot, and in it the ladies and the vicar were soon on their way to the cottage in which the Earl of Dashleigh lay ill.
Few words were interchanged as the travellers descended the rough, and almost precipitous road; indeed, the violent jolting would, under any circumstances, have rendered conversation impossible. Progress was necessarily slow, and it was some time before the party reached a lonely, shingle-built cottage belonging to a fisherman, which stood almost on the margin of the sea.