t settle down in any part of the house till she
got to a little room on the first floor, with a bay-window commanding
the country over which Sir Charles was hunting. In this she sat, with
her head against one of the mullions, and eyed the country-side as far
as she could see.

Presently she heard a rustle, and there was Mary Wells standing and
looking at her with evident emotion.

"What is the matter, Mary?" said Lady Bassett.

"Oh, my lady!" said Mary. And she trembled, and her hands worked.

Lady Bassett started up with alarm painted in her countenance.

"My lady, there's something wrong in the hunting field."

"Sir Charles!"

"An accident, they say."

Lady Bassett put her hand to her heart with a faint cry. Mary Wells ran
to her.

"Come with me directly!" cried Lady Bassett. She snatched up her
bonnet, and in another minute she and Mary Wells were on their road to
the village, questioning every body they met.

But nobody they questioned could tell them anything. The stable-boy,
who had told the report in the kitchen of Huntercombe, said he had it
from a gentleman's groom, riding by as he stood at the gates.

The ill news thus flung in at the gate by one passing rapidly by was
not confirmed by any further report, and Lady Bassett began to hope it
was false.

But a terrible confirmation came at last.

In the outskirts of the village mistress and servant encountered a
sorrowful procession: the cart itself, followed by five gentlemen on
horseback, pacing slowly, and downcast as at a funeral.

In the cart Sir Charles Bassett, splashed all over with mud, and his
white waistcoat bloody, lay with his head upon Richard Bassett's knee.
His hair was wet with blood, some of which had trickled down his cheek
and dried. Even Richard's buckskins were slightly stained with it.

At that sight Lady Bassett uttered a scream, which those who heard it
never forgot, and flung herself, Heaven knows how, into the cart; but
she got there, and soon had that bleeding head on her bosom. She took
no notice of Richard Bassett, but she got Sir Charles away from him,
and the cart took her, embracing him tenderly, and kissing his hurt
head, and moaning over him, all through the village to Huntercombe
Hall.

Four years ago they passed through the same village in a
carriage-and-four--bells pealing, rustics shouting--to take possession
of Huntercombe, and fill it with pledges of their great and happy love;
and as they flashed past