“What bores these people are to call at this time!”
As the bell was rung, Bertha put down her book to receive the visitor. But no one was shown in; there was a confused sound of voices without. Could something have happened to Edward after all? She sprang to her feet and walked half across the room. She heard an unknown voice in the hall.
“Where shall we take it?”
It. What was it—a corpse? Bertha felt a coldness travel through all her body, she put her hand on a chair, so that she might steady herself if she felt faint. The door was opened slowly by Arthur Branderton, and he closed it quickly behind him.
“I’m awfully sorry, but there’s been an accident. Edward is rather hurt.”
She looked at him, growing pale, but found nothing to answer.
“You must nerve yourself, Bertha. I’m afraid he’s very bad. You’d better sit down.”
He hesitated, and she turned to him with sudden anger.
“If he’s dead, why don’t you tell me?”
“I’m awfully sorry. We did all we could. He fell at the same post and rail fence as the other day. I think he must have lost his nerve. I was close by him, I saw him rush at it blindly, and then pull just as the horse was rising. They came down with a crash.”