“THERE’S BIN FOUL PLAY, MATES—MASTER PHILIP’S BIN MURDERED!” EXCLAIMED THE MAN.
In a few moments she aroused herself from her lethargy, and, placing her hands against her temples, uttered a deep-drawn sigh; then she started off at full speed in pursuit of Jamblin.
She heard the clattering of his horse’s hoofs, but he was far away and out of sight. She ran after him like one possessed, and never paused till fairly exhausted. Then she sat on a stile by the side of the road, and, burying her face in her hands, sobbed convulsively.
“All is of no avail,” she ejaculated; “a wilful man will have his own way.”
The sky gathered over with clouds, and rose towards the moon.
A cold wind swept over the surface of the earth and muttered among the branches of the trees. The clouds grew darker and heavier; the moon was darkened by a small black cloud.
Nell still sat silent and dejected on the stile. She gave a low and plaintive wail.
Meanwhile Philip Jamblin, heedless of the warning he had received from his sweetheart, was making the best of his way towards Stoke Ferry Farm.
He passed safely through Dennett’s-lane, and reached a bridle road, which was nearly at right angles with it.