Well, sir, five o'clock struck, and Mrs. Holbrook had not come
home. I began to feel seriously uneasy about her. I told my father so;
but he took the matter lightly enough at first, saying it was no
business of ours, and that Mrs. Holbrook was just as well able to take
care of herself as any one else. But after five o'clock I couldn't rest a
minute longer; so I put on my bonnet and shawl and went down by the
river-bank, after sending one of the farm-labourers to look for my poor
dear in the opposite direction. It's a very lonely walk at the best of
times, though a few of the country folks do go that way between Malsham
and Crosber on market-days. There's scarcely a house to be seen for
miles, except Wyncomb Farmhouse, Stephen Whitelaw's place, which lies a
little way back from the river-bank, about a mile from here; besides that
and a solitary cottage here and there, you won't see a sign of human life
for four or five miles. Anybody might be pushed into the river and made
away with in broad daylight, and no one need be the wiser. The loneliness
of the place struck me with an awful fear that afternoon, and from that
moment I began to think that I should never see Mrs. Holbrook again."
"What of her husband? He was expected on this particular afternoon, you
say?"
"He was, sir; but he did not come till the next day.
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