brick is not
exactly a feather pillow, and it may be some time before the brain
recovers from the severity of the contusion. What is your name?"

"Robert Maclean."

"And hers?"

"Elsie Maclean. Poor, dear creature! How she labors in her breathing.
Suppose I lift her head?"

"No; let her rest quietly, just as she is, and I trust all will be
well. Come to the table, and allow me to put some plaster over that
cut which bleeds so freely. Trust me, Maclean, and do not look so
woe-begone. I am not deceiving you. There may be serious internal
injuries that I have not discovered, but this stupor is not alarming.
I can find no fractured bones, and hope the blow on the head is the
most troublesome thing we shall have to contend with."

Dr. Grey proceeded to sponge the bruised and stained face and, hoping
to divert the man's anxious thoughts, said, nonchalantly,--

"I believe you are in Mrs. Gerome's employment?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long have you been at 'Solitude'?"

"I came here, sir, and bought the place, while she was in Europe. Ah,
doctor, if my mother should die, I believe it would kill my
mistress."

"You are old family servants?"

"My mother took her when she was twelve hours old, and has never left
her since. She loves Mrs. Gerome even better than she loves me--her
own flesh and blood. I can't go home and tell my mistress I have
nearly killed my mother. She would never endure the sight of me again.
Her own mother died the day after she was born, and she has always
looked on that poor dear soul yonder as her foster-mother."

Robert limped back to the sofa, and, seating himself on a chair,
looked wistfully into his mother's countenance; then hid his face in
his hands.

"Come, be a man, Maclean; and don't give way to nervousness! Your
mother's condition is constantly improving, though of course it is not
so apparent to you as to me. What has been done with the carriage and
horses?"

"Oh, the carriage is a sweet pudding; and the grays--curses on
'em!--are badly bruised. One of them had his flank laid open by a saw
lying on a lumber-pile; and I only wish it had sawed across the
jugular. They are vicious brutes as ever were bitted, and it makes my
blood run cold sometimes to see their devilish antics when Mrs. Gerome
insists on driving them. They will break her neck, if I don't contrive
to break theirs first."

"I should judge from their appearance that it was exceedingly unsafe
for any lady to attempt to