He smiled a little at her exaggerated manner, which would break out in spite of her real terror, and helped her to alight from the carriage.
"We are saved," moaned Elsie, lifting herself from Elizabeth's bosom. "I'm not hurt—I'm not hurt!"
She was lifted out of the carriage, and stood trembling by Mrs. Harrington. For the first time, relieved of their weight, Elizabeth was able to move and look up.
The stranger was standing by the carriage with his arm extended to assist her. She partially rose—then, and without the slightest warning, beyond a deep, shuddering breath, sank back insensible.
Elsie and Mrs. Harrington gave a simultaneous cry, but there was no opportunity for the widow to go into hysterics, as she had intended, since the stranger and the footman were fully occupied in lifting Elizabeth from the broken carriage. Elsie was crying wildly, "Bessie! Bessie!" and wringing her hands in real affright.
"She has only fainted," said the stranger hurriedly; "we will carry her on to the hotel."
He raised the insensible girl in his arms, and carried her down towards the inn, as if she had been a child; while her companions followed, sobbing off their terror as they went.
Once in the house, and the stranger out of the way, Mrs. Harrington recovered her wits sufficiently to give Elizabeth assistance, and restore her to consciousness.
Elizabeth opened her eyes, gave one glance around, and closed them again.
"Are you hurt?" cried Elsie.