"Father!" exclaimed Jean. "Why, he has fainted!"
Mr. Trevelyan had never in his life been more ashamed of himself. That he should faint, like any hysterical school-girl, was too ridiculous.
Cyril privately doubted whether the attack were a genuine swoon; but he wisely said nothing.
When with much trouble they had brought Mr. Trevelyan round, the latter refused to be counted an invalid. As for needing help in the walk down the gorge—Cyril might look to Jean! And Mr. Trevelyan strode off at his most vigorous pace. This could not last, however. Cyril's tough young arm was soon needed, if the Rector wished to get home that night.
Once safe in his study, Mr. Trevelyan rallied, and laughed at Cyril's proposal to send for Dr. Ingram.
"Nothing was wrong," he said. "Merely a touch of over-fatigue. A good night would set him to rights."
He had been to Barclay's cottage, had found him out, and had met him immediately afterwards.
"A rather disagreeable interview," Mr. Trevelyan admitted. "The man was abusive. I told him I should follow my conscience as to calling again, whether or no he wished to see me."
Jean's adventure was then related; and Cyril ventured to recommend greater care.
"Jean ought not to go about alone in such places, now she was a young lady."