He was mounted on Edwards' horse and dashing furiously away, before they reached the court-yard. They called to him—he neither heard nor heeded. He dashed his spurred heel into the horse's side and flew out of sight like the wind.
"Follow him!" Lady Helena cried, breathlessly, to the groom. "Overtake him, for the love of Heaven! Oh, who can have done this awful deed? Edwards, you are sure there is no mistake? It seems too unnatural, too impossible to believe."
"There is no mistake, my lady," the man answered, sadly. "I saw her myself, the blood flowing where they had stabbed her, cold and dead."
Lady Helena wrung her hands and turned away.
"Ride for your life after your master!" she said. "I will follow you as soon as I can."
She went back to her husband's side. He was no worse—he seemed if anything, better. She might leave him in her housekeeper's charge until morning.
She ordered the carriage and rapidly changed her dress. It was about one in the morning when she reached Catheron Royals. The tall turrets were silvered in the moonlight, the windows sparkled in the crystal light. The sweet beauty and peace of the September night lay like a benediction over the earth. And, amid all the silence and sweetness, a foul, a most horrible murder had been done.
She encountered Mrs. Marsh, the housekeeper, in the hall, her face pale, her eyes red with weeping. Some dim hope that up to this time had upheld her, that, after all, there might be a mistake, died out then.
"Oh, Marsh," she said, piteously, "is it true?"
Mrs. Marsh's answer was a fresh burst of tears. Like all the rest of the household, the gentle ways, the sweet face, and soft voice of Sir Victor's wife had won her heart from the first.