She went without an instant's delay, calling in loud clear tones as she went, tones that echoed through the wood and penetrated to the garden gate of old Peggy's cottage, where Florella stood straining her eyes into the darkness. The next thing for her, when Guy left her, had been to go back to the old woman, to tell her cheerfully that Mr Guy was going to see Jem home, so that there was no need to worry herself about him. "Eh then, hinny," groaned Peggy, "bide till they coom, and mak yersell a coop a tay, for it's weary wark waiting, though they'll noan be lang getting ower t' brig." Florella--such is life--looked at her watch to see how much time there remained before dinner, and, finding that she had an hour to spare, proceeded to boil the kettle and make the tea, while Peggy praised her handiness, and took her tea with pleasure, as she sat in her old wooden chair by the fire. She looked quite cheerful and absorbed in the present; while on Florella's mind pressed a weight of fear. Her hands were cold, she could not swallow the tea. Yet what was there to be afraid of? "Eh," said Peggy, with a chuckle, "t' owd gen'leman'll meet his match wi' twa on em. Gae oot till t' gate, honey, and see if they're coomin' up t' path." Florella went gladly. She stood at the gate, and strained her ears and eyes. Surely the water rushed noisily below, surely there were sounds of--something. Suddenly there was a loud, clear call, in a woman's voice. "Cooey--cooey." No one in Waynflete but Constancy could have uttered that call, and Florella answered it with another, then flew down the path towards the bridge, just as a man ran down the field from the opposite side. She saw this man plunge into the water, and fight his way towards the ruin of the bridge. Then in the dusk she saw him reach another figure staggering under a weight. Slowly and with difficulty they reached the shore, and laid their heavy burden down. "Eh!" cried the new-comer; "Eh--Lord a' mercy on us. Eh! It's Mr Guy, drooned dead!" Then Florella knew of what she had been afraid. She could never clearly recall what next happened. The news of the catastrophe suddenly spread, so that, as it seemed, a crowd came up. Constancy's clear voice, self-possessed and resolute, sounded through the confusion. "He had better be carried to the Hall; it is much nearer than the Vicarage, and I will run on and make ready." Rougher tones close by, as some one shook poor Jem by the shoulder. "Coom, man, coom; coom till mither. Nay, tha bain't droonded yet." Then Constancy again, as she went away. "Flo, you had better run on first, and prepare the poor old woman."