Christina was absolutely mute. Every step was torture, but how could she confess that she was afraid? She was a Maclahan she kept assuring herself. It seemed years before the lodge was reached, and then Barker gently lifted her down.
For a moment Christina looked up at her father pitifully.
"I didn't fall," she said; and she fainted dead away.
There was confusion then. Her father carried her into the lodge, and Nurse rushed forward forgetting her respectful manner in the excitement of the moment.
"My poor child! Oh, 'tis a cruel shame, when she's afraid of as much as a fly—and as to horses—the very looks of them are a terror to her! I've known children made imbeciles for life for less than this, and her heart not strong! 'Tis enough to kill her; likely enough we shall never get her round!"
"Go back to the house, you fussy old woman, unless you can control yourself!"
Mrs. Maclahan spoke sharply, for she was vexed at the result of her thoughtless, good-natured act. She pushed Nurse away, and was the first to speak to her little stepdaughter when the colour returned to her face and she opened her eyes.
"There! Now you're all right, aren't you? Are you given to this kind of thing?"
Christina struggled to her feet, and looked vaguely round.
"Let her go to her nurse," said her father quickly; "I fear she's very delicate."