The other half of the hall door opened; on they came, those dark forms, and others with them, steadying them, clearing the way for them as they went.
They bore a litter, but the form that rested so motionless on it could not be seen, a cloak covered it.
One man stood quite close to Amy as he held open the door for the rest to pass through. She touched his arm gently. She tried to speak, but her tongue refused to utter those anxious words. But there was no need; he looked in her face and understood the mute anguish, the agonised look of her eyes.
"It's only one of the young gents, Miss. Mr. Vavser I think they calls 'im."
It was not Charles Linchmore, then. The reaction was too great. As they bore the litter on past her up the staircase, she uttered no cry, but her slight form trembled for an instant—wavered—and the next fell heavily almost at Charles' feet, as he hastily entered the hall.
CHAPTER IX.
GOING AWAY.
"Our faults are at the bottom of our pains; Error in acts, or judgment, is the source Of endless sighs; we sin, or we mistake." Young.
"It is not granted to man to love and to be wise." Bacon.