The change was so great that it was not till
Ernest actually spoke to him that the coachman knew him.
"How are my father and mother?" he asked hurriedly, as he got into the
carriage. "The Master's well, sir," was the answer, "but the Missis is
very sadly." The horse knew that he was going home and pulled hard at
the reins. The weather was cold and raw--the very ideal of a November
day; in one part of the road the floods were out, and near here they had
to pass through a number of horsemen and dogs, for the hounds had met
that morning at a place near Battersby. Ernest saw several people whom
he knew, but they either, as is most likely, did not recognise him, or
did not know of his good luck. When Battersby church tower drew near,
and he saw the Rectory on the top of the hill, its chimneys just showing
above the leafless trees with which it was surrounded, he threw himself
back in the carriage and covered his face with his hands.
It came to an end, as even the worst quarters of an hour do, and in a few
minutes more he was on the steps in front of his father's house. His
father, hearing the carriage arrive, came a little way down the steps to
meet him.
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