Mistress Wayne was walking down the lane as if she could scarce trail one foot behind the other; but she glanced up as she came through the gate, and her weariness left her on the sudden. One startled cry she gave at sight of her step-son, and then she ran to him with outstretched hands.
"Well, what is it, bairn?" he asked.
"They said thou wast dying, Ned, and I never thought to doubt them. Tell me it is no dream; thou'rt living, dear—yes, yes, thy grasp feels warm and real. Ah, God be thanked!"
"They said. Who troubled to tell lies to thee?" cried Wayne, sore perplexed.
"Three of the Ratcliffes who met me on the moor."
Wayne of Cranshaw looked at his cousin. "Trickery," he muttered.
"Ay, there's trickery somewhere.—Tell us more, bairn, about this ill-timed meeting."
Little by little they drew the whole tale from Mistress Wayne—how they had bidden her bring Nell to the boundary-stone, how Nell had gone, she following; how she had seen her last on the hill-top, and then had found an empty road.
"I swooned, Ned, then," she finished, "and lay so for a long while. And when I came out of it I had no strength to move at first, and I thought the journey down to Marsh would never end."
"I am riding to Wildwater, Ned. Who comes with me?" said Wayne of Cranshaw brusquely.