Somewhere out at the back a door opened and shut, and it was as if the house drew in its breath at the shock of the sound.
Presently a tremor crept through Gwenda's young body as her heart shook it.
She rose and went to the window.
IV
She was slow and rapt in her going like one walking in her sleep, moved by some impulse profounder than her sleep.
She pulled up the blind. The darkness was up against the house, thick and close to the pane. She threw open the window, and the night entered palpably like slow water, black and sweet and cool.
From the unseen road came the noise of wheels and of a horse that in trotting clanked forever one shoe against another.
It was young Rowcliffe, the new doctor, driving over from Morthe to
Upthorne on the Moor, where John Greatorex lay dying.
The pale light of his lamps swept over the low garden wall.
Suddenly the four hoofs screamed, grinding together in the slide of their halt. The doctor had jerked his horse up by the Vicarage gate.