With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. After all, she only LOOKED a woman. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. There was no need to be afraid for me. He will not come. She went into shock.
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