The break-up of the situation was due to an accident. Sabina had driven a young horse to the fair at St. Columb Major and this animal, excited by the unwonted traffic, the smells and the noise, became unmanageable. Plunging down the hill, he came into collision with a heavy van. The prancing feet slipped and he fell, shooting his driver over the shafts. Though clear of horse and cart, she was flung with considerable violence against the front wheel of the van. This startled the van horses and the heavy lumbersome creatures, with a prodigious clatter, started up the street. Sabina, rendered unconscious by the blow she had received, had fallen between the wheels and the van, lurching forward, passed over her. It was thought at first that she was killed but the crushed woman who, later that afternoon, was admitted to the little hospital at Stowe, was still breathing. As the case seemed hopeless, the husband was sent for, and Byron, in a ferment of excitement, came pounding in on the heels of the messenger. His horse was in a lather when he checked him at the hospital gate. "Poor Sabina, poor old girl, it was a terrible thing for her to die as she lived; away from home like that. No doubt ’er ’ead was full of the farmin’, never once thought of dyin’, but the Lorrd would be merciful." "If she’s goin’ to die, don’t ’ee keep it from me," he said to Dr. Derek, who was in charge of the case. "I’d rather knaw the worst." "And," as he explained to the neighbours, on his return home, after being allowed to glance at the unconscious face on the pillow, "the poor doctor ’ee couldn’t give me no encouragement." *CHAPTER II* The sight of Sabina, her florid face grey against the white bandages, her pale lips open to facilitate the drawing of difficult breath, had convinced her husband that she could not possibly recover. That evening he called the hinds together, told them what had happened, and for the first time gave them their orders. As he went back into the house, old George Biddick, who had been many years on the farm, and was of a noticing disposition, drew the attention of a new-come labourer to the receding figure. "Speaks as though ’e’d been maister all the time, don’t ’e? An’ carries ’isself pretty straight, too, considerin’ as ’e’m bowed wi’ grief." "I don’t s’pose ’e realize things yet," said Jim, a Rosevear from across the hills. "Must ’av been tarr’ble shock for’n." The other man glanced sideways out of small brown eyes, and gave a non-committal grunt. He was queerly shaped, with a high-shouldered short body and long legs and, being related to most of the cottagers, was known generally as "Uncle George!" "Dunno so much about that. Missus is so strong as a dunkey," he said, as he returned to his work of bedding down the horses, "an’ she may chate the crows yet."