"Hush, man! Only answer my questions," cried Salis hastily. "You got him home?" "Yes, sir," said the man, who could not keep his eyes off Leo, who was gazing at him wildly--in a way which taught her brother that the old love for Tom Candlish was far from dead. "And then--" "And then, sir, as soon as we'd got him on his bed, I galloped off for Dr North, sir." "Yes." "But he's ill, sir, and the housekeeper said he couldn't come to the Hall." "Well?" "I hardly knew what to do, then, sir; but as I was wondering what was best, Joe Chegg come up, sir--he used to be a groom, you know--and I jumped off the mare, and made him get up and go off to King's Hampton to fetch Dr Benson, while I came on to you." "Quite right," said Salis. "I'll come on with you directly. Mary, my dear, send a line to Moredock to say that there will be no vestry meeting. Yes? You were going to speak, Leo." She shook her head, and half closed her eyes, as she turned away, shivering at the feeling of vindictive rage which ran through her, as in imagination she seemed to see the result of the encounter which had taken place, and that it was Tom Candlish who had fared by far the worse. Salis's countenance grew more stern, as he leaned over to Mary, and stooped over to say a few words in her ear. "Try and keep her by your side. We must have no foolish excitement now." "I will try," said Mary gently; and she looked up to see that Leo was watching them both inquiringly, her face contracted, and a singular look in her eyes. For she was wondering what would be the result of her brother's meeting with the young squire; and then as she drew her breath painfully, the thoughts of self and the dread of detection gave place to feelings of horror respecting the man she loved, and of hate, the most bitter and intense, against North, whom she now longed to meet that she might revile him--heap upon his head her bitterness and contempt. "It's scared us, sir, horrible," said the man as he walked back with Salis. "Have you any idea who attacked your master?" said Salis. "Not a bit, sir. That's the puzzle of it. If it had been for his money, they'd have taken it all, and his watch. We can't understand it a bit." "I can," said Salis to himself. "The scoundrel has been insulting some one's child, or sweetheart, or wife, and been half killed for his pains. I wonder who was the guilty party? Well I know that," he muttered with a half laugh--"Tom Candlish." "Yes, sir; beg pardon, sir." "What for, my man?" said Salis, feeling a little disconcerted. "I thought you laughed, sir, and said something." "No, no, my man; only a way of mine." They walked on in silence after this, Salis feeling very sore at heart as he thought of his sister, and how painful it was that she should still care, as she evidently did, for such a worthless scoundrel.