so plainly hopeless that he would
fain have removed his wife, hitherto so unaccustomed to any spectacle of
suffering. But Lady Martindale was not to be detached from her who
had absorbed her affection from infancy. Wrapped in that one idea, she
hardly heard his representations of their daughter's state, and, with
piteous looks, repelled his assurances that her care was unavailing, and
ought to be relinquished to Mrs. Garth and the maids. He was obliged
at length to desist, and returned just as Violet and Mr. Martindale had
succeeded in moving Theodora to a slippery horse-hair sofa. She looked
up and replied, 'Better, thank you,' to his first inquiry; but when
asked if she was in pain, was forced to answer, 'Yes, not much,' and
closed her eyes, as if she only wished not to be disturbed.

They held council over her: Mr. Martindale urged taking her at once to
his parsonage; he would find the carriage, and Violet should bring her,
leaving the children to follow under Sarah's charge when they should
awake. Violet only demurred at leaving Lady Martindale; but Lord
Martindale authoritatively told her, that it was not fit for her to
be in Mrs. Nesbit's room, and he should be much obliged to her to see
Theodora properly taken care of.

The transit was serious, every one longed to have it over, but dreaded
the arrival of the carriage, which came before it was expected. Resolute
as ever, Theodora astonished them by springing at once on her feet,
disdaining aid, but she had hardly taken a step, before she faltered,
and was just falling, when her father caught her in his arms and carried
her to the carriage, where Violet was ready to uphold her sinking head.
Mr. Martindale took the short way, and was at home before them, to lift
her out, and transport her at once to her room. Since the marriage of
Pauline, Theodora had given up a personal attendant, and no ladies'
maids were forthcoming, except Miss Standaloft, whose nerves could not
endure the sight of Mrs. Nesbit, far less of Miss Martindale, so the
whole business of undressing fell upon Violet, and the rector's little
under-maid, who, having been a school-girl, was of course devoted
to Miss Martindale. A difficult task it was, for besides the burns,
bruises, and faintness, every muscle and sinew were so strained and
tender from the violent exertion, and the blows she had unconsciously
received, that the gentlest touch and slightest movement were severely
painful. Violet was mos