Rachel was out of the carriage before Dick could get off the box.
She looked at him without speaking, and he led the way swiftly through the silent wood under the moon. The Bishop followed.
The keeper's cottage had a dim yellow glimmer in it. Man's little light looked like a kind of darkness in the great white, all-pervading splendor of the night. The cottage door was open. Dr. Brown was looking out.
Rachel went up to him.
"Where is he?" she said.
He tried to speak; he tried to hold her gently back while he explained something. But he saw she was past explanation, blind and deaf except for one voice, one face.
"Where is he?" she repeated, shaking her head impatiently.
"Here," said the doctor, and he led her through the kitchen. A man and woman rose up from the fireside as she came in. He opened the door into the little parlor.
On the floor on a mattress lay a tall figure. The head, supported on a pillow, was turned towards the door, the wide eyes were fixed on the candle on the table. The lips moved continually. The hands were picking at the blankets.
For the first moment Rachel did not know him. How could this be Hugh? How could these blank, unrecognizing eyes be Hugh's eyes, which had never until now met hers without love?