I cried out for Bessie, but somebody stepped between.
I think I looked at her, wondering how she knew, for she said,— "A piece of rock has struck you, and I am afraid you are badly bruised."
I hadn't felt it before, but the pain got worse, till I didn't know how to walk. The rock must have been jagged, for it had torn my dress.
Then all of a sudden we were at the Rectory. I didn't dare to ask any questions, and I was sick with the pain: so Mrs. Kingscote made me sit down, and she loosened my dress and bathed the shoulder; and my arm below the shoulder was all swelled up. And then she made me drink something hot; I couldn't say what it was. After that I must have turned sleepy or stupid, I don't know which, nor for how long; for when I woke up wide in a fright, and longing to know more, it would be a good hour later. Mrs. Kingscote was gone, and only Miss Ellie sat by me, keeping watch; and I was on the sofa in the little workroom where the Rectory maids used to sit. I couldn't think how I'd come on the sofa, nor why I wasn't with my husband, and I sat up in a hurry and said, "Oh, I must go!"
"Wait, please, till my mother comes. Just one moment," said Miss Ellie.
"I can't wait," said I, all in a fever.
"But you don't know where anybody is," said she. "Wait just one moment;" and hardly was she out of sight before Mrs. Kingscote came in.
"Are you a little better now?" said she, and she sat down by me.
I couldn't answer, for it didn't seem to matter how I was. I wanted to hear about them, you know. I just looked at her hard, and I said—"Then they're killed!"
Mrs. Kingscote's blue eyes, which are every bit like Master Bertram's,—were, I ought to say, for eyes alter as people grow older— her eyes filled up with tears, and her soft hands took tight hold of mine, as if she did want to comfort me.