"Oh, sir, they are not slain? Tell me that they are safe.—Nell was right," she went on, talking fast as if to herself; "she would send her brothers to help him at the washing-pools instead of hawking.—Why did we let him ride alone so near to Wildwater?—They reached the pools too late.—Ah, God! and the one friend I had is gone." Again she turned her eyes full on Red Ratcliffe. "Is he dead, sir?" she asked wearily. A sudden thought came to him. "Not dead, Mistress, but dying fast," he answered. "Thou know’st the boundary-stone over yonder, where once he laid a Ratcliffe hand in mockery? Well, we met him there not long since as he rode to the sheep-washing, and I thrust him through the side.—Peace, woman! Thou may’st help him yet to a little ease before he dies." "Yes, yes, I will go to him. At the boundary-stone, you said——" "’Tis not thou he cries for, but his sister. See ye, we’re hard folk, and take a hard vengeance, but now that Wayne has paid his price we do not grudge him such a light request—and were, indeed, riding down to bid his sister come to him." She passed a hand across her eyes, while Ratcliffe’s fellows glanced at him with frank amazement. "’Twas Nell, not I, he asked for?" she said. "Are you sure, sir, that my name did not pass his lips?" "Sure, quite sure. Pish! We’ve taken trouble enough, and now we’ll leave thee to it. Go thyself if it pleases thee—but thou’lt rob the dying of his last wish if thou dost not hurry straight to Marsh and bring his sister to the boundary-stone." She halted a moment, then went with slow steps down the highway. And he who rode on Ratcliffe’s left turned questioningly to him. "What fool’s game is this?" he asked. "Nay, ’tis a wise man’s game, thou dullard. I tell thee, Wayne may come straight home to Marsh, and meet us; we’ll run no hazard that can be escaped. Nay, by God! This little want-wit will do our work for us, and bring Mistress Nell three parts of the way without our lifting hand or foot—and think how that will lighten one of our saddle-cruppers. We have Wayne safe, I tell thee, and we’ll risk naught." Mistress Wayne was out of sight now, carrying a heart that was heavier for the knowledge that Ned had no thought of her in his last hour. A strange jealousy had wakened in her; why should it be Nell, not she, who was to soothe him at the last? She had loved him, surely, better than any friend he had—and now it was Nell, Nell only, whom he wanted. Well, she would bring her. Not for the first time did this frail woman wonder bitterly why she had been doomed to return to her right mind; yet never, amid all the remorse that had followed her awakening, had she felt one half the numbing sense of loneliness that went with her now. "He is gone," she repeated for the twentieth time, as she went over Worm’s Hill, and down Barguest Lane, and in at the Marsh gateway.