id not understand, or was afraid to
speak: she rode in a danger of which she knew nothing. The consequence
was that, jumping the merest little ditch in a field outside the park,
they had a fall. The horse got up and trotted limping to the stable;
his mistress lay where she fell. Davie, wild with misery, galloped
home. From the height of the park Donal saw him tearing along, and knew
something was amiss. He ran, got over the wall, found the pony's track,
and following it, came where Arctura lay.

There was a little clear water in the ditch: he wet his handkerchief,
and bathed her face. She came to herself, opened her eyes with a faint
smile, and tried to raise herself, but fell back helpless, and closed
her eyes again.

"I believe I am hurt!" she murmured. "I think Larkie must have fallen!"

Donal would have carried her, but she moaned so, that he gave up the
idea at once. Davie was gone for help; it would be better to wait! He
pulled off his coat and laid it over her, then kneeling, raised her
head a little from the damp ground upon his arm. She let him do as he
pleased, but did not open her eyes.

They had not long to wait. Several came running, among them lord
Forgue. He fell beside his cousin on his knees, and took her hand in
his. She neither moved nor spoke. As instead of doing anything he
merely persisted in claiming her attention, Donal saw it was for him to
give orders.

"My lady is much hurt," he said: "one of you go at once for the doctor;
the others bring a hand-barrow--I know there is one about the place.
Lay the squab of a sofa on it, and make haste. Let mistress Brookes
know."

"Mind your own business," said Forgue.

"Do as Mr. Grant tells you," said lady Arctura, without opening her
eyes.

The men departed running. Forgue rose from his knees, and walked slowly
to a little distance, where he stood gnawing his lip.

"My lord," said Donal, "please run and fetch a little brandy for her
ladyship. She has fainted."

What could Forgue do but obey! He started at once, and with tolerable
speed. Then Arctura opened her eyes, and smiled.

"Are you suffering much, my lady?" asked Donal.

"A good deal," she answered, "but I don't mind it.--Thank you for not
leaving me.--It is no more than I can bear, only bad when I try to
move."

"They will not be long now," he said.

Again she closed her eyes, and was silent. Donal watched the sweet
face, which a cloud of suffering would every now and then cross,