“Thank you.” And Jean walked back to spend a restless night and rise to meet renewed suspense.
The morning seemed endless, but noon came at last, and under the pretense of seeking coolness in the grotto, Jean stole away to a slope whence the gate to the Hall park was visible. For two long hours she watched, and no one came. She was just turning away when a horseman dashed through the gate and came galloping toward the Hall. Heedless of everything but the uncontrollable longing to gain some tidings, she ran to meet him, feeling assured that he brought ill news. It was a young man from the station, and as he caught sight of her, he drew bridle, looking agitated and undecided.
“Has anything happened?” she cried breathlessly.
“A dreadful accident on the railroad, just the other side of Croydon. News telegraphed half an hour ago,” answered the man, wiping his hot face.
“The noon train? Was Sir John in it? Quick, tell me all!”
“It was that train, miss, but whether Sir John was in it or not, we don’t know; for the guard is killed, and everything is in such confusion that nothing can be certain. They are at work getting out the dead and wounded. We heard that Sir John was expected, and I came up to tell Mr. Coventry, thinking he would wish to go down. A train leaves in fifteen minutes; where shall I find him? I was told he was at the Hall.”
“Ride on, ride on! And find him if he is there. I’ll run home and look for him. Lose no time. Ride! Ride!” And turning, Jean sped back like a deer, while the man tore up the avenue to rouse the Hall.
Coventry was there, and went off at once, leaving both Hall and house in dismay. Fearing to betray the horrible anxiety that possessed her, Jean shut herself up in her room and suffered untold agonies as the day wore on and no news came. At dark a sudden cry rang through the house, and Jean rushed down to learn the cause. Bella was standing in the hall, holding a letter, while a group of excited servants hovered near her.
“What is it?” demanded Miss Muir, pale and steady, though her heart died within her as she recognized Gerald’s handwriting. Bella gave her the note, and hushed her sobbing to hear again the heavy tidings that had come.
Dear Bella:
Uncle is safe; he did not go in the noon train. But several persons
are sure that Ned was there. No trace of him as yet, but many bodies
are in the river, under the ruins of the bridge, and I am doing my
best to find the poor lad, if he is there. I have sent to all his
haunts in town, and as he has not been seen, I hope it is a false
report and he is safe with his regiment. Keep this from my mother
till we are sure. I write you, because Lucia is ill. Miss Muir will
comfort and sustain you. Hope for the best, dear.
Yours, G.C.