"That I cannot well say," she answered, "till we have consulted with your husband. I know not if it will be safe for you to return at once to your home?"
"O yes, let me go home!" I cried, as all at once the thought of Richard's anguish and hopelessness rushed over me. "Let me go home to my husband! He will know what to do."
And I tried to spring to my feet, but a strange dizziness seized me, and I sank backward almost fainting.
"You see you must rest," said Magdalen, as she once more produced her flask of wine, gave me to drink, and bathed my face with water. "You are utterly worn out, and no wonder. Do but remain quiet for a few hours, and then if you are able, we will go down to Coombe Ashton together."
I could not but allow that she was right; and the more, as I really was unable to stand without giddiness. Magdalen once more arranged my rough bed, and I sank into a sound sleep, from which I waked to hear the sound of voices; and raising myself on my elbow, I saw Magdalen in low but earnest converse with an elderly man, who looked like a shepherd. As I moved, she turned and hastened to my side.
"How is it with you, madam?"
"Why, well, I believe," I answered, "but who is this? Methinks I have seen the face before?"
"That have you, madam," answered the old man. "Do you not know your father's old herd, John Dean?"
I remembered him well as he spoke; an old man, and reported a very honest one, but unsocial and grave, who lived in a little cottage on the edge of the moorland. My mother and I had once taken refuge with him during a thunderstorm, and I recollected how we had both been struck with the manner and words of the man, as being much above what we should have expected. Seeing that I had my wits together again, and seemed rested, Magdalen explained her plans—namely, that I should walk as far as John Dean's cottage, from whence I could easily send word home.
"Or better still, let me bring the donkey to the hollow yonder, and then the Lady can ride," said John. "'Tis a rough way for her walking."