"How far are we from the manor?" I asked.
"About two miles and a half, sir," replied Mount. "Doubtless some of Sir George Covert's horsemen heard our shots, and we'll meet 'em cantering out to investigate."
I had not imagined we were as near as that. A painful thrill passed through me; my heart leaped, beating feverishly in my breast.
Minute after minute dragged as we filed swiftly onward, mechanically treading in each other's tracks. I strove to consider, to think, to picture the sad, strange home-coming--to see her as she would stand, stunned, astounded that I had ignored her appeal to help her by my absence.
I could not think; my thoughts were chaos; my brain throbbed heavily; I fixed my hot eyes on the road and strode onward, numbed, seeing, hearing nothing.
And, of a sudden, a shout rang out ahead; horsemen in line across the road, rifles on thigh, moved forward towards us; an officer reversed his sword, drove it whizzing into the scabbard, and spurred forward, followed by a trooper, helmet flashing in the sun.
"Ormond!" cried the officer, flinging himself from his horse and holding out both white-gloved hands.
"Sir George, ... I am glad to see you.... I am very--happy," I stammered, taking his hands.
"Cousin Ormond!" came a timid voice behind me.
I turned; Ruyven, in full uniform of a cornet, flung himself into my arms.