"I must go back for the others now," he said; "but then I'll go for the doctor. I think you must have a doctor, mother."
She made a sign to him to go, and began to unfasten the child's dress with steady hands, though her face was white.
"Aymer, I'll go over in the boat for Helen and Guy," whispered Lizzie; "I shall not be afraid. You catch Rufus and ride to E—. Katty, you get any thing mother wants. I will be back as soon as I can."
Poor little Clarice! There she lay with the thick wreath of primroses still crowning her dark hair, and her basket of flowers crushed up in her arms—a poor little crushed flower herself.
Aymer had a long six miles—six Irish miles of a hilly road, to ride on his rough but sure-footed little pony. But he got to E— at last, and fortunately found Dr. Garvey at home. The doctor promised to come "as fast as the car would be ready," and to bring what he thought might be needed; and Aymer rode back, glad to be passed by the doctor on the road.
Mr. Egerton sat at his desk; not hearing any unusual sounds, he soon forgot his wife's "absurd panic." The daylight faded, and he lighted his lamp, and read, wrote, and dreamed on. He was not called to tea, but that did not disturb him in the least; he would never have remembered any meal for himself. But when several hours had passed since tea-time, he began to feel hungry, and while he was dimly wondering what ailed him, Aymer entered the room.
"Father," said he—and no one would have known his voice, nor indeed his manner; nay, his very face was different, somehow—"Father, Dr. Garvey wants to speak to you."
"Dr. Garvey! Why, who—what brings him here?"
"I went for him; Clarice has had a fall; she is badly hurt. Here is Dr. Garvey."
He let the doctor enter, and then left the room. Mr. Egerton looked like one but half awake.