orthing.”
Edwardlaughedagain.“Well,good-bye!”
“Good-bye.RemembermetoMrs.Arthur.”
Shestoodatthewindowtoseehimmount,andasheflourishedhiscropather,shewavedherhand.
ThewinterdayclosedinandBertha,interestedinthenovelshewasreading,wassurprisedtoheartheclockstrikefive.ShewonderedthatEdwardhadnotyetcomein,andringingforteaandthelamps,hadthecurtainsdrawn.Hecouldnotnowbelong.
“Iwonderifhe’shadanotherfall,”shesaid,withasmile.“Hereallyoughttogiveuphunting,he’sgettingtoofat.”
Shedecidedtowaitnolonger,butpouredoutherteaandarrangedherselfsothatshecouldgetatthesconesandseecomfortablytoread.Thensheheardacarriagedriveup.Whocoulditbe?
“Whatboresthesepeoplearetocallatthistime!”
Asthebellwasrung,Berthaputdownherbooktoreceivethevisitor.Butnoonewasshownintherewasaconfusedsoundofvoiceswithout.CouldsomethinghavehappenedtoEdwardafterall?Shesprangtoherfeetandwalkedhalfacrosstheroom.Sheheardanunknownvoiceinthehall.
“Whereshallwetakeit?”
It.Whatwasit—acorpse?Berthafeltacoldnesstravelthroughallherbody,sheputherhandonachair,sothatshemightsteadyherselfifshefeltfaint.ThedoorwasopenedslowlybyArthurBranderton,andhecloseditquicklybehindhim.
“I’mawfullysorry,butthere’sbeenanaccident.Edwardisratherhurt.”
Shelookedathim,growingpale,butfoundnothingtoanswer.
“Youmustnerveyourself,Bertha.I’mafraidhe’sverybad.You’dbettersitdown.”
Hehesitated,andsheturnedtohimwithsuddenanger.
“Ifhe’sdead,whydon’tyoutellme?”
“I’mawfullysorry.Wedidallwecould.Hefellatthesamepostandrailfenceastheotherday.Ithinkhemusthavelosthisnerve.Iwasclosebyhim,Isawhimrushatitblindly,andthenpulljustasthehorsewasrising.Theycamedownwithacrash.”
“Ishedead?”
“Yes.”
Berthadidnotfeelfaint.ShewasalittlehorrifiedattheclearnesswithwhichshewasabletounderstandArth