“Bess Prawle, if you have a woman’s heart, take this poor creature in,” cried Geoffrey, sharply; and, giving him one quick, half-upbraiding look, Bess took his helpless burthen in her arms, and helped to carry her to the old sofa beneath the window-sill.
“What can I do?” cried Geoffrey, as he gazed in the stony face. “Good heavens! Is she dead?”
“Nigh to it, sir,” said Bess, in a low, sad voice; but ere she had well finished Geoffrey was running up the path on his way to Carnac.
Chapter Thirty Seven.
An Eventful Night.
It was four o’clock the next morning before Geoffrey went softly up the gravel path to the cottage, and, weary and sick at heart, let himself in.
His clothes had partly dried upon him during his walk, for he had fetched Dr Rumsey from his house to attend poor Madge, the doctor being very quiet and saying little, Geoffrey thought, after hearing a few explanations.
“She seems to have been very unhappy at home,” said Geoffrey, “and they quarrelled with her, I think. She must have been half-mad.”