“Look at her, Nicco; she’s tricked you, the brat isn’t mine, it’s Peter Gorwyn’s, and she says ’tis I that kept you from Miss Warrener. Why don’t you kill her, Nicco? and I’ll go right away if it’s true; I love you better than she does; you shall have Miss Warrener.” “What’s all this?” said Lovel. He put Olver’s passionate fumbling hands aside, and went over to Daisy. “You’re ill,” he said in a practical voice; “What is it? has Olver hurt you?” “You heard what he said,” she replied, looking up at him with terrified and pain-racked eyes. “Never mind about that. Are you ill? Let me help you up.” “She’s tricked you, Nicco,” cried Olver, fawning round him. “Hold your tongue, Olver; she’s in pain. You poor fool, why didn’t you tell me? Heaven knows if I can get to Marlborough through this snow with darkness coming on. Lean on me, I’ll take you upstairs. Lean on me; never mind anything else.” Olver was pulling frantically at him. “Is it true, Nicco? is it me? Oh, my poor Nicco,--first me and then her,--what can I do?--but I’ll do something,--I’ll find something to do,--oh, my head, my heart.” “The pain, the pain!” cried Daisy. “Lean on me,” said Lovel, putting his arm round her. “Gorwyn’s child!” screamed Olver in a frenzy. He followed them to the foot of the stairs, where he stumbled and fell on the lowermost step, still calling incoherently after Lovel, who was persuading his wife up to her room, saying meanwhile, “Lean on me, Daisy, I won’t let you fall, don’t be afraid, it’ll all be over soon.” The word was quickly passed down the village street that Daisy Lovel’s time was come, and that Lovel begged the kindness of some charitable woman to remain near his wife while he rode to Marlborough in search of the midwife. “There’s a chance for somebody,” said one woman, “to see the inside of that house for herself.” “And there’s a come-down for Gipsy Lovel,” said another, “to have to beg for one of us to go into his place. Where would he be if we all refused?” “Her time come already? and she married,--let me see,--four, five months, is it?” said a third. But in spite of these and other scornful remarks, volunteers were forthcoming, and even those who had lagged most behind, or who had recommended that Lovel be left to suffer now the penalty of his years of unneighbourliness, watched enviously the departure of Mrs. Blagdon for the house of mystery and evil legend. They saw her received at the door by Lovel, drawn in and swallowed up, as to their imagination Daisy herself had been swallowed up on the day of her wedding.