"Up to her father's house, sir. They carried her there."
"I must go there and see her at once," said Mr. Berners, seizing his hat and hurrying from the house.
He walked rapidly through the kitchen garden, vineyard, orchard, and meadow, to the edge of the wood where the overseer's cottage stood.
He found old Mrs. Winterose with her hands full.
Mr. Winterose, who three days before had had a paralytic stroke, that had nearly brought him to the grave, had now so far rallied as to give hopes of his continued life.
He lay sleeping on a neat white bed in the lower front room of the cottage. His wife was the only person with him.
She came forward in great haste to meet Mr. Berners.
"Oh, sir!" she cried, "my child, Miss Sybil! was she reskeed?"
"Ah, Heaven! That is the very question I came to ask you, or rather to ask Tabby," sighed Mr. Berners, dropping into a chair.
"Oh, sir! Oh, sir!" wept the old nurse, "then I can't give you any more satisfaction than you can give me! Tabby don't know nothink! She's in bed up stairs, in a fever, and outen her mind, and Libby is a watching of her."