They had met by the churchyard gate, and Jeanie and Pat were having a hopping race down the hill. Avery looked after them with a touch of wistfulness. "But I wish she could have been away longer."

Tudor frowned. "Yes. Why on earth not? The Reverend Stephen again, I suppose. I wish I had had your letter sooner, though as a matter of fact I'm not in favour just now, and my interference would probably weigh in the wrong balance. Keep the child out as much as possible! It's the only way. She has made good progress. There is no reason at present why she should go back again."

No, there was no reason; yet Avery's heart misgave her. She wished she might have had longer for the building of that wall. Good Friday was more or less a day of penance in the Vicar's family. It began with lengthy prayers in the dining-room, so lengthy that Avery feared that Mrs.

Lorimer would faint ere they came to an end. Then after a rigorously silent breakfast the children were a.s.sembled in the study to be questioned upon the Church Catechism--a species of discipline peculiarly abhorrent to them all by reason of the Vicar's sarcastic comments upon their ignorance.

At the end of this dreary exercise they were dismissed to prepare for church where there followed a service which Avery regarded as downright revolting. It consisted mainly of prayers--as many prayers as the Vicar could get in, rendered in an emotionless monotone with small regard for sense and none whatever for feeling. The whole thing was drab and unattractive to the utmost limit, and Avery rose at length from her knees with a feeling of having been deliberately cheated of a thing she valued. She left the church in an unwonted spirit of exasperation, which lasted throughout the midday meal, which was as oppressively silent as breakfast had been.

The open relief with which the children trooped away to the schoolroom found a warm echo in her heart. She even almost smiled in sympathy when Julian breathed a deep thanksgiving that that show was over for one more year.

Neither Piers nor his grandfather had been in the church, and their absence did not surprise her. She did not feel that she herself could ever face such a service again. The memory of Piers at the organ came to her as she dressed to accompany the children upon their primrosing expedition, and a sudden pa.s.sionate longing followed it to hear that music again. She was feeling starved in her soul that day.

But when they reached the green solitudes of the park woodlands the bitterness began to pa.s.s away. It was all so beautiful; the mossy riding up which they turned was so springy underfoot, and the singing of a thousand birds made endless music whichever way they wandered.

"It's better than church, isn't it?" said Jeanie softly, pressing close to her. And Avery smiled in answer. It was balm to the spirit.

The Squire's preserves were enclosed in wire netting, and over this they climbed into their primrose paradise. Several partridges rose from the children's feet, and whirred noisily away, to the huge delight of the boys but to Avery's considerable dismay. However, Marshall was evidently not within earshot, and they settled down to the serious business of filling their baskets for the church decorations without interference.

The primroses grew thickly in a wonderful carpet that spread in all directions, sloping down to a glade where gurgled a brown stream. Down this glade Avery directed her party, keeping a somewhat anxious eye upon Gracie and the three boys who were in the wildest spirits after the severe strain of the morning. She and Jeanie picked rapidly and methodically. Olive had decided not to accompany the expedition. She did not care for primrosing, she told Avery, and her father had promised to read the Testament in Greek with her later in the afternoon, an intellectual exercise which she plainly regarded as extremely meritorious.

Her absence troubled no one; in fact Julian, having over-heard her excuse, remarked rudely that if she was going to put on side, they were better off without her; and Avery secretly agreed with him.

So in cheery accord they went their careless way through the preserves, scaring the birds and filling their baskets with great industry. They had reached the end of the glade and were contemplating fording the brook when like a bolt from the blue discovery came upon them. A sound, like the blare of an angry bull, a.s.sailed them--a furious inarticulate sound that speedily resolved into words.

"What the devil are you mischievous brats doing there?"

The whole party jumped violently at the suddenness of the attack. Avery's heart gave a most unpleasant jerk. She knew that voice.

Swiftly she turned in the direction whence it came, and saw again the huge white horse of the trampling hoofs that had once before been urged against her.

He was stamping and fretting on the other side of the stream, the banks of which were so steep as almost to form a chasm, and from his back the terrible old Squire hurled the vials of his wrath.

Ronald drew near to Avery, while Jeanie slipped a nervous hand into hers.

Julian, however, turned a defiant face. "It's all right. He can't get at us," he said audibly.

At which remark Gracie laughed a little hysterically, and Pat made a grimace.

Perhaps it was this last that chiefly infuriated the Squire, for he literally bellowed with rage, s.n.a.t.c.hed his animal back with a merciless hand, and then with whip and spur set him full at the stream.

It was a dangerous leap, for the ground on both banks was yielding and slippery. Avery stood transfixed to watch the result.

The horse made a great effort to obey his master's behests. It almost seemed as if he were furious too, Avery thought, as he pounded forward to clear the obstacle. His leap was superb, clearing the stream by a good six feet, but as he landed among the primroses disaster overtook him. It must have been a rabbit-hole, Avery reflected later; for he blundered as he touched the ground, plunged forward, and fell headlong.

There followed a few moments of sickening confusion during which the horrified spectators had time to realize that Sir Beverley was pinned under the kicking animal; then with a savage effort the great brute rolled over and struggled to his feet.

With a prompt.i.tude that spoke well for his nerve, Julian sprang forward and caught the dangling bridle. The creature tried to jib back upon his prostrate master, but he dragged him forward and held him fast.

Old Sir Beverley lay p.r.o.ne on the ground, in an awful stillness, with his white face turned to the sky. His eyes were fast shut, his arms flung wide, one hand still grasping the whip which he had wielded so fiercely a few seconds before.

"Is he dead?" whispered Jeanie, clinging close to Avery.

Avery gently released herself and moved forward. "No, dear, no! He--he is only stunned."

She knelt beside Sir Beverley, overcoming a horrible sensation of sickness as she did so. The whole catastrophe had been of so sudden and so violent a nature that she felt almost stunned herself.

She slipped an arm under the old man's head, and it hung upon her like a leaden weight.

"Oh, Avery, how dreadful!" exclaimed Gracie, aghast.

"Take my handkerchief!" said Avery quickly. "Run down and soak it in the stream! Mind how you go! It's very steep."

Gracie went like the wind.

Avery began with fingers that shook in spite of her utmost resolution, to try to loosen Sir Beverley's collar.

"Let me!" said Ronald, gently.

She glanced up gratefully and relinquished the task to him. Ronald was neat in all his ways.

The return of Gracie with the wet handkerchief gave her something to do, and she tenderly moistened the stark, white face. But the children's fears were crowding thick in her own heart. That awful inertness looked so terribly like death.

And then suddenly the grim lips parted and a quivering sigh pa.s.sed through them.

The next moment abruptly the grey eyes opened and gazed full at Avery with a wide, gla.s.sy stare.

"What the--what the--" stammered Sir Beverley, and broke off with a hard gasp.

Avery sought to raise him higher, but his weight was too much for her even with Ronald a.s.sisting.

"Find my--flask!" jerked out Sir Beverley, with panting breath.

Ronald began to search in his pockets and finally drew it forth. He opened it and gave it to Avery who held it to the twitching lips.

Sir Beverley drank and closed his eyes. "I shall be--better soon," he said, in a choked whisper.

Avery waited, supporting him as strongly as she could, listening to the short laboured breathing with deep foreboding.

"Couldn't I run down to the Abbey for help?" suggested Julian, who had succeeded at length in tying the chafing animal to a tree.

Avery considered. "I don't know. How far is it?"

"Not more than a mile. P'r'aps I should find Piers there. I'm sure I'd better go," the boy urged, with his eyes on the deathly face.

And after a moment Avery agreed with him. "Yes, I think perhaps you'd better. Gracie and Pat might go for Dr. Tudor meanwhile. I do hope you will find Piers. Tell him to bring two men, and something that they can carry him on. Jeanie dear, you run home to your mother and tell her how it is that we shall be late for tea. You won't startle her, I know."

They fell in with her desires at once. There was not one of them who would not have done anything for her. And so they scattered, departing upon their several missions, leaving Ronald only to share her vigil by the old Squire's side.

For a long time after their departure, there was no change in Sir Beverley's state. He lay propped against Avery's arm and Ronald's knee breathing quickly, with painful effort, through his parted lips. He kept his eyes closed, but they knew that he was conscious by the heavy frown that drew his forehead. Once Avery offered him more brandy, but he refused it impatiently, and she desisted.