"I'll go and meet her," I said, as calmly as I could, "but if she arrives before I do, say nothing of my being here. I shall not be much later than she. But point out the road by which she will come."
He did so, and then wanted to send a servant with me; but of this I would not hear. I wanted no prying, gossiping servants to be around. The truth was I feared Wilfred had succeeded in sending Mrs. Bray's granddaughter on a false errand, or else had watched her and found out hers. At any rate, I felt sure that he would be cognisant of the child's visit, and would use it as a means to carry out his designs.
I hurried across the park like a deer when the hounds are behind it, cleared the fence that lay at its utmost extremity, and struck into a footpath that led to the cottage. The way was very lonely. A few straggling houses formed the village and the cottage was some distance from them. Two weak, defenceless women could easily be met and overpowered and without anyone being the wiser.
Wilfred was not likely to attempt to carry out his designs in daylight, so if the summons to Mrs. Bray's bedside were genuine, the chances were that Ruth would be allowed to pay the visit first. Perhaps she might be there even now, and if I went a little faster I might be in time to see her before she left the cottage. Filled with this thought, I rushed rapidly on to the little thatched house, and knocked at the door.
A little girl came, with a tallow candle in her hand.
"Does Mrs. Bray live here?" I said, pantingly.
"Iss, sur, she do," replied the child.
"Is she alone?"
"Iss, sur," wonderingly.
"Has any one been to see her this afternoon?"