She went to and fro through the house, seeing that her own and her father’s orders were carried out, her face wearing a strange expression of intense expectancy, but her bearing and manner retaining their customary calmness. When everything that could be done in advance had been done, she went down into the hall again. The fire was blazing there and the lights were burning. Upon a table stood refreshments, and all was as she desired to see it. The old butler, who had not gone with the rest of the men, stood in a dim recess, looking out of the window, and half concealed by the curtain. Suddenly he moved quickly towards the door. “Do you see anything?” asked Bride breathlessly. “I hear steps,” he answered, and went to the door. The next minute he opened it wide and the Duke entered. Bride made a quick step forward. Her father’s face was pale and stern. His clothes were wet as from contact with salt water, but his manner was composed, though indicative of mental disturbance. His first words were to the servant. “Go or send instantly to Abner Tresithny’s cottage, and tell him to come here at once.” The butler disappeared without waiting to hear more. Abner’s cottage was on the premises, a little distance from the stable-yard. He could be there in a very short time after the summons reached him; but why was he summoned? Bride’s eyes asked the question her lips could not frame. Her father came forward, and put his hands upon her shoulders. “Can you be brave to bear bad news, Bride?” he asked; and she saw that his face looked very grave, and that his lips quivered a little involuntarily. “I think so,” she answered steadily. “Is it Eustace?” She felt him give a slight start. “How did you know? Who has told you?” “I hardly know--Eustace himself, I think. I have felt sure the whole time that he has been in peril to-night. Do not be afraid to tell me the worst. Is he dead?” “I fear so! I fear so! God grant I may be mistaken, but I have no hope--it is the face of the dead!” There was something in the tone of the voice that bespoke a keener distress than Bride would have looked for her father to show in any matter connected with Eustace. She gave him a quick glance of grateful sympathy, and, moving from his side, went to the table and poured him out a glass of wine. He drank it, and then she said softly-- “Tell me about it.”