“Your aunt sowed the seed.  It is strange that I was very near choosing this place nine years ago, but it could not be seen from my window, which was an object with me then.”

Just then his quick ear detected that some one was at the parsonage door, and Rachel, turning round, exclaimed with horror, “It is that unhappy Mr. Carleton.”

“Poor young fellow,” said Mr. Clare, with more of pity than of anger, “I had better speak to him.”

But they were far from the path, and it was not possible to guide the blind steps rapidly between the graves and head stones, so that before the pathway was reached young Carleton must have received the sad reply to his inquiries, for hurrying from the door he threw himself on his horse, and rode off at full speed.

By the afternoon, when Colonel Keith came to Bishopsworthy, Alick was lying on the sofa with such a headache that he could neither see nor spell, and Rachel was writing letters for him, both in the frame of mind in which the Colonel’s genuine warm affection and admiration for Bessie was very comforting, assisting them in putting all past misgivings out of sight.  He had induced his brother to see Mr. Harvey, and the result had been that Lord Keith had consented to a consultation the next day with an eminent London surgeon, since it was clear that the blow, not the sciatica, was answerable for the suffering which was evidently becoming severe.  The Colonel of course intended to remain with his brother, at least till after the funeral.

“Can you?” exclaimed Alick.  “Ought you not to be at Avoncester?”

“I am not a witness, and the case is in excellent hands.”

“Could you not run down?  I shall be available tomorrow, and I could be with Lord Keith.”

“Thank you, Alick, it is impossible for me to leave him,” said Colin, so quietly that no one could have guessed how keenly he felt the being deprived of bringing her brother to Ermine, and being present at the crisis to which all his thoughts and endeavours had so long been directed.

That assize day had long been a dream of dread to Rachel, and perhaps even more so to her husband.  Yet how remote its interest actually seemed!  They scarcely thought of it for the chief part of the day.  Alick looking very pale, though calling himself well, went early to Timber End, and he had not long been gone before a card was brought in, with an urgent entreaty that Mrs. Keith would see Mrs. Carleton.  Rachel longed to consult Mr. Clare, but he had gone out to a sick person, and she was obliged to decide that Alick could scarcely wish her to refuse, reluctant and indignant as she felt.  But her wrath lessened as she saw the lady’s tears and agitation, so great that for a moment no words were possible, and the first were broken apologies for intruding, “Nothing should have induced her, but her poor son was in such a dreadful state.”