Miss Frowde thrust Charlotte aside, and fastening Joyce's cloak, seemed only anxious to get her off as speedily as possible. It was a very inconvenient episode; and if Mrs. More were the worse for the excitement it would be very disastrous. Secretly Miss Frowde wished she could get rid of Charlotte too, but as she only wept and moaned, and made no attempt to put her things together, Miss Frowde refrained from urging her to do so. Miss Frowde was not unkind or unfeeling, she was simply and absolutely devoted to Mrs. More; and, indeed, it was well that she was always at hand to perform the hundred and one kindly offices, which the spoiled and pampered domestics neglected. Joyce was soon ready, Charlotte clinging to her to the last, and following her to the hall, with sobs and tears. Nevertheless, as the gig drove off, and the wheels crunched the gravel on the drive, Charlotte returned to her room to bathe her eyes and smooth her hair, and soon returned with a woe-begone face to the sitting-room, and received, with some complacency, the condolences of the pale-faced curate in the corner, sharing his hymn-book when the family service of praise and prayer began, with which all gatherings closed at Barley Wood. [Illustration] CHAPTER IX. A DARK CLOUD OVER FAIR ACRES. "How did it happen, Thomas? _Tell_ me, Thomas?" "It's them Mendip fellows," he said. "The master rode to Chewton yesterday, and somewhere about nine o'clock Mavis come home with no one on his back. We knew summat was amiss, and we set out with lant'uns, the mistress and I----" "Mother went!" "Yes; we couldn't keep her back. We was wandering about most of the night. About eight o'clock this morning a cart comed along, and there was the master brought home more dead than alive by one of farmer Scott's carters." "He is alive, then; oh! he is alive?" "Well, yes; he was when I comed off," Thomas said, doubtfully. "And why did not you come for me before? Oh! you should have sent before. Oh, Thomas! Thomas!" "Well," said Thomas, "we've had so much running about for doctors; and Mavis ain't much good. We was short of hands and horses." "Had he had a fall?" Joyce asked, "a fall from Mavis?" "Aye, I dare say; but he was knocked off by a blow of a stone or summat. There's a hole in his temple, just cut clean by a stone so they say." "Oh, father! oh, father!" Joyce murmured. "There's a lot of folks come to see after him. Mr. Paget and Squire Bennett, and the Bishop's son from Wells; and there's no want of help; and they'll try and hunt him out." "Hunt who out?" "Why, the brute that caused the master to fall off Mavis's back, of course. I never did hold with master being so free riding over the Mendips at late hours. I've said so scores of times--_scores_. But there, he had the heart of a lion, he had." _Had! had!_ How the word smote on Joyce's ear. "_Has_ father--_has_--" she murmured, "he cannot, cannot be--dead!"