She had heard the coach come and go, but instead of the place settling down again into its normal quiet, there seemed to be a great many people about, and hurrying footsteps were heard, such as would be at times when there was an alarm of fire in the town.
And yet it was not like that. More, perhaps, as if there were some meeting, and the steps died away.
For a moment or two Millicent had been disposed to summon Thisbe, and send her to see what was wrong; but on drawing aside the curtains and looking out, the street seemed deserted, and though there were a few figures in the market-place, they did not excite her surprise.
“I am overwrought and excited,” she said to herself. “Ah! at last.”
There was no mistaking that step, and starting up, she ran into the hall to admit Hallam, who staggered in, closed the door quickly, and catching her hand, half dragged her into the dining-room.
She clung to him in affright, for she could see that the cloak he wore was torn and muddied, that his face was ghastly pale, and that as he threw off his travelling cap, there was a terrible swelling across his forehead, as if he had received some tremendous blow.
“Robert,” she exclaimed, “what is the matter?”
“Hush,” he said quickly; “be quiet and calm. Has Thisbe gone to bed?”
“Yes. Yes, I think so.”
“Quick, then; a basin and water, sponge and towel. I must bathe this place.”