“I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.  Sit down!  The poor old chap never rallied really.  He had a little talk with Piers half-an-hour or so before he went.  But it was only the last flicker of the candle.  We couldn’t save him.”

He bent down over her.  “Don’t look like that!  It wasn’t your fault.  It was bound to come.  I’ve foreseen it for some little time.  I told him it was madness to go out riding as he did; but he wouldn’t listen to me.  Avery, I say!  Avery!” His voice sank to an undertone.

She forced her stiff lips to smile faintly in answer to the concern it held.  With an effort she commanded herself.

“What of Piers?” she said.

He stood up again with a sharp gesture, and turned from her to answer Miss Whalley’s eager questions.

“Surely it is very sudden!” the latter was saying.  “How did it happen?  Will there be an inquest?”

“There will not,” said Tudor curtly.  “I have been attending the Squire, for some time, and I knew that sooner or later this would happen.  The Vicar is not here?” He turned to Avery.  “I promised to look in on him on my way back.  Shall I find him at the Vicarage?”

He was gone almost before she could answer, and Avery was left on the seat by the door, staring before her with a wildly throbbing heart, still asking herself with a curious insistence, “What of Piers?  What of Piers?”

Miss Whalley surveyed her with marked disapproval.  She considered it great presumption on Avery’s part to be upset by such a matter, and her attitude said as much as she walked with a stately air down the church and commenced her own self-appointed task of decorating the pulpit.

Avery did not stir for several seconds; and when she did it was to go to the open door and stand there looking out into the spring sunshine.  She felt strangely incapable of grasping what had happened.  She could not realize that that dominant personality that had striven with her only yesterday—­only yesterday—­had passed utterly away in a few hours.  It seemed incredible, beyond the bounds of possibility.  Again and again Sir Beverley’s speech and look returned to her.  How emphatic he had been, how resolutely determined to attain his end!  He had discharged his obligation, as he had said.  He had paid his last debt.  And in the payment of it he had laid upon her a burden which she had felt compelled to accept.

Would it prove too much for her, she wondered?  Had she yet again taken a false step that could never be retraced?  Again the thought of Piers went through her, piercing her like a sword.  Piers alone!  Piers in trouble!  She wished that Dr. Tudor had answered her question even though she regretted having asked it.  How would he bear his solitude, she wondered with an aching heart; and a sudden great longing arose within her to go and comfort him, as she alone possessed the power to comfort.  All selfish considerations departed with the thought.