So they pushed on with all possible speed when the town was left behind, but the rutty bridle path—for the road was little better—could not be traversed very quickly, for Miles' horse had to be led, that he might avoid stumbling, which would have caused his master such pain as almost to unfit him for continuing the journey. This was not the only peril of this main road to Oxford, for while the horses and baggage mules stepped cautiously along, master and servants had to keep a sharp eye on the trees and undergrowth of the surrounding wood, for thieves and beggars found a convenient shelter in the tall bracken, and might spring out upon them at any moment.
[CHAPTER II.]
AT PATON HALL.
MILES PATON had not been home for nearly two years, and during that time there had been changes which, if he heard of, he soon forgot, but which startled him now even in the midst of his pain and weariness.
They were close to the village, and Miles was looking round for some recognition from the villagers, who were generally standing about their doors at this hour, when he was struck with the quietness of the place. Even the alehouse had a deserted look, and there were no children to be seen playing about in the roadway. Most of the cottage doors were closed too; and weeds were growing in the path that was usually trodden hard.
"Roger, Roger," he called at last, forgetting even the anguish of his foot in his alarm at the condition of the neighbourhood. "Roger, have you had the plague here?" he said, in an anxious whisper, that the other servant should not hear.
"The plague?" repeated the reeve, crossing himself as he uttered the word of horror.
"Yes. How is it the houses are empty? Where is Diggory Bunce and all his family?" asked Miles.
"Gone, sir, gone," said the reeve, shaking his head sadly.
"Yes; I can see they are not here," said the young fellow, impatiently. "But where have they gone? Why, the Bunces were all born on the land, and have held the village as long as we have held the Hall, and now I don't see one of them."