"Who is with him?"
"Me mos' times an' young Mark. I jes' come down to speak 'long o' you, Marse Fabe, w'en I see de carriage dribe up."
"Well, go back to your master. I will speak to my niece, and then come in," said Mr. Fabian, as he hurried out to the carriage. All his interview with the housekeeper had not occupied two minutes, but Cora was pale with suspense and anxiety.
"How is he?" she panted.
"Unconscious, my poor girl. Oh, Cora! come in!"
"No, no; I must not. Not until he permits me. I will stop at the ferryman's cottage. Oh, if he should recover consciousness—oh, Uncle Fabian, ask him to let me come to him, and send me word."
"Yes, yes; I will do it. I must go to him now. Charles," he said, turning to the coachman, "drive Mrs. Rothsay down to the ferry house, and then take the carriage to the stables."
And then, with a grave nod to Corona, Mr. Fabian re-entered the house. The coachman drove the carriage down to the ferryman's cottage and drew up. The door was open and the cottage was empty.
"Boat on t'other side, ma'am," said Charles.
"For the doctor, I suppose—and hope," said Corona, looking across the river, and seeing a gig with two men coming on to the ferryboat.