And she was cut short by a violent though hushed fit of weeping, while he exclaimed incoherently, 'No! no! don't think—I was a fool—oh! don't cry—don't—it is all over now—and this is so good and precious! Oh! please don't cry! Come in to Cherry! Take my arm.'
'Oh!' between her sobs, in a panting whisper. 'I never meant that. But I should have died if I had not come with the carriage to find out. I went in here to wait. I meant no one to know.'
'You must come in now. Cherry is well, and up.'
'I can't! I ought not! Don't let any one know.'
'Indeed you must come in! Think of the comfort to Cherry. Besides, you will hear of them all. Come.'
The tone was most persuasive, and Gertrude felt that she must yield; indeed, she trembled so much as to need the support of his arm as he took her along the cloister into the darkened house, up the stairs to the Prior's room, where he was glad to find preparations for breakfast; and placing Gertrude on the sofa, he was knocking at Cherry's door, when he heard the tap of her stick as she came along the gallery from a visit to Felix.
She had only been allowed to give him ocular demonstration that she was well and afoot, and exchange a kiss and five fond words; but the welcoming smile of gladness had so enlightened his face, that she was cheerful enough to be able to meet Lance's eager face and gesture as he threw his arm round her, whispering, 'She's here, Cherry. She's come in May's carriage. That most dearest—!'
And before she had fairly recollected who was most dearest to Lance, she was borne away into the room, to see tearful eyes, and crimson face, find them hidden against her, and be almost stifled in Gertrude May's embrace.
The explanation was made in more detail than in the church. Tom May, on finding that he must stay, had scribbled a pencil-line to his wife—'Terrible boat accident; two lives gone, fears for two more. Send the other horse for me to-morrow morning.'
The groom was only sure that it was the Squire of whom scarcely a hope was given, and another brother drowned, which he could not say, except that it was not the clergyman. Dr. May and Ethel were spending the night at Abbotstoke; and Gertrude, after hours of tossing under remorse for her discourtesy, and misery of suspense, found waiting unendurable, and obeyed the impulse to rise and go with the carriage.