ange had been
carried and lay perfectly insensible, with Mrs Mostyn, a dignified
elderly widow lady, who had hurried out as soon as she had heard of the
accident, bathing his head, and who now anxiously waited till the
doctor's examination was at an end.

"Well, doctor," said Mrs Mostyn eagerly, "don't keep me in suspense."

"I must," he replied gravely. "It will be some time before I can say
anything definite. I feared fractured skull, but there are no bones
broken."

"Thank heaven!" said Mrs Mostyn piously. "Such a frank, promising
young man--such an admirable florist. Then he is not going to be very
bad?"

"I cannot tell yet. He is perfectly insensible, and in all probability
he will suffer from the concussion to the brain, and spinal injury be
the result."

"Oh, doctor, I would have given anything sooner than this terrible
accident should have occurred. Pray forgive me--would you like
assistance?"

"Yes: of a good nurse. If complications arise, I will suggest the
sending for some eminent man."

Many hours elapsed before John Grange opened his eyes from what seemed
to be a deep sleep; and then he only muttered incoherently, and old
Tummus's plump, elderly wife, who was famed in the district for her
nursing qualities, sat by the bedside and shed tears as she held his
hand.

"Such a bonny lad," she said, "I wonder what Miss Mary'll say if he
should die."

Mary had heard the news at breakfast-time before her father had
returned, but she made no sign, only looked very pale and grave. And as
she dwelt upon the news she wondered what she would have said if John
Grange had come to her and spoken as Daniel Barnett did on the previous
evening.

This thought made the colour come back to her cheeks and a strange
fluttering to her breast as she recalled the different times they had
met, and John Grange's tenderly respectful way towards her.

Then she chased away her thoughts, for her mother announced from the
window that "father" was coming.

A minute later James Ellis entered, to sit down sadly to his breakfast,
his silence being respected by mother and daughter.

At last he spoke.

"You heard, of course, about poor Grange?"

"Yes. How is he?"

"Bad--very bad. Doctor don't say much, but it's a serious case, I fear.
Come right down on his head, close to my feet. There--I can't eat.
Only fancy, mother, talking to me as he was last night, and now lying
almost at the point of death."

He pushed