She agreed quickly.
“I won’t delay you, Anthony,” she added; and then, struck by a sudden thought, stopped him a second time. “But where is Mrs. Stanley?” she went on, puzzled, and got no answer, for Dixon, his ear bent towards the road, was listening to the slow tread of many feet.
They came from the direction of the village, growing steadily louder, and presently, after a questioning, anxious look at the girl, he turned and rode slowly to the foot of the bridge, Deb clinging to his leather. There they waited in a tense silence, straining their eyes through the dark.
When at last the dim figures were limned on the night, it seemed to them that the whole village was coming to Crump. Here and there a lantern swung in the dense, hushed crowd, and in the midst, borne by his own wrestlers, Gaskarth at his head, the master of Crump came home, covered and very still—
Deb moved under the lantern, and a man in advance hurried towards her; and when he saw her eyes, any hope that he had cherished for himself fell shrivelled to the earth for ever. She looked up at him dumbly, terribly.
“Hurt—not dead!” Callander answered with merciful directness. “He was thrown, wrestling. We got the doctor at once. He has hopes——” He stopped, for the doctor was at his side, and Dixon speaking hurried, fearful news from his saddle. Suddenly Deb began to laugh very low, making him shiver.
“It’s a Lyndesay’s Night!” she said. “A Lyndesay’s Night! They follow the Tree! Christian, too—all of them—they follow the Tree!” And she laughed again.
He put his arm round her and drew her into the blackness under the bridge, and together they watched the procession pass, Larruppin’ Lyndesay walking with his hand on the stretcher. Anthony Dixon turned his horse close behind, and followed his silent master. The dim, voiceless crowd passed heavily into the park.
All night long Nettie watched by Christian’s bed, while messages went out to the nearest nursing-homes in the district. Anthony’s vow had been broken in a few hours—she was back at Crump already. Indeed, she had been waiting on the steps when the ghostly cortège had shuffled up the drive.