Fortunately the carriages were at this moment announced, and the only possible thing to do, as they were far from all assistance, was for the sufferers to be wrapped in such cloaks as could be found amongst them, and conveyed back to Croydon as speedily as possible.
Neither George nor Sam would consent to leave the place, whilst a shadow of a hope remained that the body might be recovered, but they insisted that their sisters should return home at once, as they proposed, when all was over, if the search was unsuccessful, to walk to a public-house on the outskirts of the Park, and dry themselves there, before returning to Croydon. Emma had the presence of mind to propose that a carriage and a supply of dry clothes should be despatched there to meet them, by the first of the party that arrived at home.
Under the escort of Miss Bridge's manservant, instead of Sam, Elizabeth, Emma, Annie, and Miss Hall, returned in the vehicle which had borne them so gaily and light-hearted to the Park. But little conversation passed, and the few words which were said, had no reference to the fatal event; it was too recent and too shocking to speak of. To Emma, indeed, after what had so lately passed between them, the circumstance seemed beyond description or imagination terrible. The angry feelings with which they had parted, the malevolence he had expressed, and the evident state of half-intoxication, to which he had perhaps resorted to drown his disappointed feelings, and conceal his chagrin and mortification, all seemed to rise up, as if to reproach her conscience. Why had she been so scornful and so bitter; perhaps, had she answered more mildly, had she shown less contempt and more compassion, he might still have been alive, all this might not have happened. It appeared like a horrid dream altogether, their angry dispute—Sam's indignation, and her fears for him, and finally, Mr. Morgan's sudden disappearance, all had passed so rapidly, that she could scarcely feel it a reality.
One thing she was resolved—she would never join a large, mixed pleasure-party again; it was impossible that real satisfaction could be found in such society, and so far as her experience went, they seemed always nothing but preludes to some heavy misfortune. It was a relief to her to find herself once more at home in the Rectory at Croydon, alone in her apartment, able to think without distraction, rest without interruption, and cry without observation.
She was so completely worn out, that to sit down and indulge in a very hearty flood of tears was the greatest relief imaginable.
Sam called at the Rectory on his return to the town, and saw her for a few minutes. It was dark and the candles were not lighted, so she had ventured down stairs to meet him.
"Any news?" enquired Mr. Bridge.
"Nothing," said he: then crossing the room to his sister, he whispered,
"Emma, you are avenged!"
She shuddered and did not answer.