The clergyman was suddenly arrested in his meditations by a loud call from Lord Fontonore, who had reached the other end of the field; and looking in that direction, he saw the boy waving his hat, and making impatient and excited gestures as if to entreat him to come to him. Convinced that no trifle thus moved his pupil, Mr. Ewart instantly descended from the carriage, and ordering the man-servant to follow, proceeded rapidly towards the spot.
[Illustration: MARK DISCOVERED BY LORD FONTONORE.]
“Oh, sir! oh, Mr. Ewart, only look here!” exclaimed Charles, as soon as his tutor came within hearing. “Poor Mark Dowley, only see how they have treated him. He is not dying—oh, I trust that he is not dying!”
“Help me to raise him,” said the minister quietly, though his blood ran cold at the spectacle before him. “Do you not think, Charles, that you could find a little water?” The boy was off almost before the sentence was concluded. “Jones, we must draw off his jacket very gently,—softly, you pain him; we must examine his hurts.”
With a hand gentle as a woman’s, Mr. Ewart removed the garment from the half senseless sufferer, to stanch the blood, and ascertain the amount of his injuries. But he had scarcely laid bare the poor bruised shoulders of the boy, when he started with an expression of such extreme surprise that Jones looked in wonder to see what could be its cause.
“Is it possible!” exclaimed the clergyman, “can it be really so! Yes, for the countenance confirms it, so like the mother; it struck me the first moment that I saw him! And the woman—ah!” he cried, pressing his hand on his forehead, “I remember she would not see me; she dared not, the base—the treacherous! It must be so; I see all now—but the motive, what could be the motive!”
“Please, sir,” said Jones, touching his hat, “shall I go to yonder cottage for assistance?”
“Carry the boy to the carriage;—no, I will bear him myself; it is not the first time that he has been in my arms. And listen, Jones, say not a word of what we have found, but seek out two or three stout labourers at once; the police would be better, but we must not lose time, everything depends upon secrecy and despatch.”
While the wondering servant went in search of the required aid, Mr. Ewart, with feelings almost resembling those of a father, after binding with his own handkerchief and neckcloth Mark’s most severe wounds, gently carried him to where the carriage stood waiting. Once the poor boy unclosed his eyes, and uttered an exclamation of pleasure on recognizing the clergyman, but he seemed almost too feeble to speak. Mr. Ewart had scarcely reached the high road when he was joined by Lord Fontonore, who, flushed and panting in the eagerness of his haste, brought some cold water in his cap.