“It concerns our valued friend, Mr Hope,” said Mrs Grey. Hester’s colour had been going from the moment Mrs Grey entered the room: it was now quite gone; but she preserved her calmness.
“He was safe when Sydney lost sight of him, on the ridge of the hill, on the Dingleford road; but he afterwards had an accident.”
“What kind of accident?” inquired Margaret.
“Is he killed?” asked Hester.
“No, not killed. He was found insensible in the road. The miller’s boy observed his horse, without a rider, plunge into the river below the dam, and swim across; and another person saw the pony Sydney had been riding, grazing with a side-saddle on, on the common. This made them search, and they found Mr Hope lying in the road insensible, as I told you.”
“What is thought of his state?” asked Margaret.
“Two medical men were called immediately from the nearest places, and Mr Grey saw them last night; for the news reached us while you were at the piano, and we thought—”
“Yes but what do the medical men say?”
“They do not speak very favourably. It is a concussion of the brain. They declare the case is not hopeless, and that is all they can say. He has not spoken yet; only just opened his eyes: but we are assured the case is not quite desperate; so we must hope for the best.”
“I am glad the case is not desperate,” said Hester. “He would be a great loss to you all.”