Dismissed thus curtly, the men were fain to move their lorries out of the way, thus leaving room for Jerome, followed by the groom, to drive the phaeton across the bridge and into the stable-yard of the corn-mill on the other side of the water. He related what had happened, and soon received the miller’s permission to leave the horses there for quarter of an hour, until Miss Bolton was sufficiently recovered to proceed. Then, leaving the man with the horses, he went back again to Nita, and found her seated where he had left her, and sobbing still now and then. ‘My dear Miss Bolton, you must try to control yourself, or you will make yourself ill, and alarm your father needlessly.’ ‘Alarm my father!’ she said, looking up; ‘what does alarm matter, after that deadly fear? I tell you, I felt as if I saw your face sinking beneath the pond there—all through me! Oh, it was horrible! It haunts me.’ ‘It is pure imagination. You were on that side, remember. Think what would have been my feelings if I had had to go home and tell Mr. Bolton that his daughter was drowned!’ ‘It would have served me right. I knew the horses. I knew they shied if one did not keep them well in.’ ‘Did you? Well, you see, I managed to restrain them, even after they had shied. Never mind my precious personality, I implore you. You are safe!’ ‘I—miserable little wretch that I am!’ exclaimed Nita, in so deep, so profoundly bitter a voice that he was surprised out of all caution. ‘Nay—that is a strange thing to say,’ he remarked. ‘It would never do for poor old Wellfield to lose all its heirs. What would have become of it if you had been drowned? For my sake, don’t talk in that way.’ ‘Ah!’ she exclaimed passionately, ‘do not reproach me with that. Do you suppose that I shall ever again have one moment’s pleasure in that idea? After knowing you—what do you take me for?’ ‘I take you to be nervous and unstrung, and over-anxious. And I am sure it is my duty to get you home as soon as possible. Come! The carriage is at the other side of the bridge.’ ‘Oh, it is impossible to go in the carriage again. I will walk. I am an excellent walker, and it is only four miles.’ ‘And I?’ ‘You will walk too, with me. The groom will bring back the carriage when the horses are fit to come.’ ‘And what if I think it better to drive, and make a point of your driving with me?’ She looked up in some surprise, and found him calmly surveying her in a manner which left no doubt as to his meaning. He was overruling her, and he intended to be obeyed. She rebelled, momentarily. ‘Really, you are very—my nerves——’ ‘Are quite strong enough to carry you home, and point out to me the way round by Clyderhow, which is the road I intend to take to Wellfield Abbey. There is no reason why you should not do your shopping too,’ he added, gently.