Physick was unable to restrain a laugh.
'There was a hare hunt, and I was in it. I took a principal part. I was thrown from my horse, and picked up unconscious, and the thing came to an end, it went no further. I have been badly hurt. I might have been killed.'
'And pray how came that about?' asked the old man quivering with anger. 'A light from heaven—struck you to the ground, like Saul when breathing out threatenings and slaughters against the Elect? And now you're a converted character, eh? and so think I'll take you back into favour, and let you have Langford?'
'No, uncle. I do not know quite what it was threw me down. Don't think me mad if I say it—but it seemed to me to be old Wellon rising from the cairn and rushing down on me, to strike me to the earth.'
Langford looked at him with amazement.
'I tell you just what happened. I was riding in the hunt—more shame to me—and I had the horn to my lips, and was just by the Gibbet Hill, when my piebald stood bolt still, and shivered with fear, and all at once there came a yellow light out of the barrow, and a great black figure with flapping clothes about it and I remember no more.'
Langford was like the rest of his class, full of belief in the supernatural. Larry spoke with such earnestness of tone, his face so fully expressed his conviction, that the old man was awed.
'I have broken my right arm and collarbone. I have suffered a great deal, I have not slept for three nights, and this is the first day I have been out of my bedroom. Uncle Taverner, I made up my mind the very first night, that I would come to you directly I was able, and tell you that I am ashamed of myself. When the fellows were carrying me away on a gate, and I woke up—then I knew I had done wrong. I was warned beforehand twice to have nothing to do with the hunt. I heard those who were carrying me say how bad I behaved in taking part in the game against my own uncle. There—uncle! I'm very sorry, and I hope I'll never be such a fool and so wicked again.'
Taverner's lips quivered, whether from suppressed rage, or from a rising better emotion, neither Physick nor Larry knew, for they left the room, whilst the old man stared after them with his dark brows contracted over his keen, twinkling eyes, and he sat motionless, and without speaking.
Larry was some little while getting into the gig. Mrs. Veale stood on the doorsteps watching him. All at once they heard a cry from the inside of the house—a cry, whether of terror, or rage, or pain, could not be told.