When Guy received this letter by the second post, on the day that Staunton went to Moorhead, the last sentence more than all the rest made him feel that he must start at once for Waynflete; manifestly the note had been delayed, or he would have got it in the morning. As it was, he could not reach Kirk Hinton till four o'clock. He was touched and a good deal alarmed, not so much at the summons as at the inclination to listen to him, and hurriedly putting his papers together, set off, and at Ingleby station sent a telegram to Godfrey, since his old aunt disliked receiving them, saying briefly-- "_Send trap without fail to meet the four train at Kirk Hinton_." And then, moved partly by a desire to explain himself to Cuthbert, and partly by a sudden strange impulse to tell Florella what he was doing, he despatched the other to Moorhead. Spite of this impulse, he thought little of his dread of Waynflete, as he pursued his journey by train, and waited at the junction for that which was to take him to Kirk Hinton. He was very full of what he had to say to his aunt, and much moved at the tone of her summons. As the train stopped at Kirk Hinton, the station-master hurried up. "Mr Waynflete! Have you had a telegram from Waynflete Hall?" "No; what's the matter?" "We despatched one, sir, an hour ago, to say that Mrs Waynflete had had an accident this morning. Here's a copy, sir." "A telegram? What was it?" "Aunt Waynflete has had a bad fall. Come. From Mrs Palmer to Guy Waynflete." Guy stood still for a moment, and caught his breath. "They expect me," he said. "Is the trap here?" "No, sir; nothing's here. We sent on your telegram this morning. The lad that brought this one said he gave it to Mr Godfrey." "I must go on," said Guy. "Send my things as soon as you can. I suppose the field way is the quickest?" "Yes, sir, by a matter of two miles. The evening's very soft--we'll be having a wet night. Good evening, sir. Keep on by the stiles. And I hope ye'll not get there too late." The words struck on Guy's ears, as he hurried down the hill in the dismal light of the October afternoon. When Godfrey, also troubled in spirit, had been forced to take this rough and dreary walk, its discomforts had added to his sense of anger and injury, but Guy hardly heeded them, though he knew that the six miles up and down the sharp edges of Flete Dale was almost more than he could manage without breaking down, especially as the sudden summons and alarming news had been a bad preparation for extra exertion. "Too late!" If he did not reach his old aunt in time to satisfy her, if not about his view of the business, at least about himself, it would be a bitter hour for him indeed. If it was possible--if he could be satisfactory? Thoughts, hitherto latent, rose up so strong and full within him that he felt as if he had received a sudden increase of reasoning power, in spite of the fatigue against which he could hardly struggle.