We told him that Buddle had been sent for; and that we only awaited help to get him down to Redman's Farm.
When Rachel heard the clang of hoofs and the rattle of the tax-cart driving down the mill-road, at a pace so unusual, a vague augury of evil smote her. She was standing in the porch of her tiny house, and old Tamar was sitting knitting on the bench close by.
'Tamar, they are galloping down the road, I think—what can it mean?' exclaimed the young lady, scared she could not tell why; and old Tamar stood up, and shaded her eyes with her shrunken hand.
Tom Wealdon pulled up at the little wicket. He was pale. He had lost his hat, too, among the thickets, and could not take time to recover it. Altogether he looked wild.
He put his hand to where his hat should have been in token of salutation, and said he—
'I beg pardon, Miss Lake, Ma'am, but I'm sorry to say your brother the captain's badly hurt, and maybe you could have a shakedown in the parlour ready for him by the time I come back with the doctor, Ma'am?'
Rachel, she did not know how, was close by the wheel of the vehicle by this time.
'Is it Sir Harry Bracton? He's in the town, I know. Is Stanley shot?'
'Not shot; only thrown, Miss, into the Dell; his mare shied at a dead body that's there. You'd better stay where you are, Miss; but if you could send up some water, I think he'd like it. Going for the doctor, Ma'am; good-bye, Miss Lake.'
And away went Wealdon, wild, pale, and hatless, like a man pursued by robbers.