"Aunt Letty? I've brought bad news—there's been an accident."
"To Oliver?" But she knew, even as she asked the question, what the answer would be.
"Yes—Oliver. They went on too long in the twilight—he stumbled, and his gun went off. They're bringing him home—now."
Laura was staring before her, her eyes veiled, glassy, like those of a blind woman.
"They wanted to bring him to The Chase. But there was a doctor there, and he said nothing would be of any use. So I told them to bring him home—to you."
Both women waited in the grateful darkness, dry-eyed and still.
At last Mrs. Tropenell said uncertainly: "Come indoors, Laura."
But Laura shook her head. "No, I'd rather stay out here, if you don't mind, Aunt Letty."
Not quite knowing what she was doing or why, Mrs. Tropenell walked forward and opened the door into the hall. There she took down a cloak, and coming out again, she put it round Laura. And they stood there waiting—till there broke on their ears the heavy tramp of men's feet carrying a burden.