She dressed hastily, glad of the cold, glad of the effort she had to make against the stiffness of her own young bones--glad of her hunger and faintness, of everything physically hard that had to be fought and conquered.
In a very short time she had passed quietly downstairs and through the hall, greatly to the amazement of William, who opened the front door for her.

Once in the village road the damp raw air revived her greatly.

She lifted her hot temples to it, welcoming the waves of wet mist that swept along the road, feeling her youth come back to her.
Suddenly as she was nearing the end of a narrow bit of lane between high hedges, and the first houses of the village were in sight, she was stopped by a noise behind her--a strange unaccountable noise as of women's voices, calling and wailing.

It startled and frightened her, and she stood in the middle of the road waiting.
Then she saw coming towards her two women running at full speed, crying and shouting, their aprons up to their faces.
"What is it?
What is the matter ?" she asked, going to meet them, and recognising two labourers' wives she knew.
"Oh! miss--oh! miss!" said the foremost, too wrapt up in her news to be surprised at the sight of her.

"They've just found him--they're bringin' ov 'im home; they've got a shutter from Muster Wellin! 'im at Disley Farm.