“She’s only shocked. She’s all right––stop that screaming! Good God, girl, where’s your nerve?”
His severity steadied her. Mary Hope stopped screaming, both hands held tightly over her mouth. Lance was already on his way to the house, carrying Mother Douglas like a sleeping child in his arms. And the rain came, a white curtain of water that drenched them to the skin in the first ten seconds.
On the bed where Aleck Douglas had stared at the ceiling, and raved, and died, Lance laid her carefully as though he feared to waken her. He tore open the faded calico dress at the throat, laid his ear upon her heart.
“She’s alive, sweetheart,” he said hearteningly. “It’s only a shock. Bring a basin of water. We’ll have her all right in no time.”
He worked over the old woman, using all the means he could remember or invent, while the house shook with the fury of the wind, and the lightning dazzled them and the rain drummed incessantly on the roof. Mary Hope watched him, her eyes wide, her lips refusing to form any words. For her own sake he sent her on many little errands, kept her busy at useless little tasks. After what seemed an interminable time he stood looking down at the gently heaving breast.
“How game is my girl?” he asked, taking Mary Hope in his arms. “Is she game enough to stay here while Lance goes for a doctor? It won’t be long––” He paused while he made a rapid mental calculation of the distance, and of what a 308 horse may endure. “Three hours. Will my girl be brave enough to stay here three hours? I’ll call the man who was mowing––if I can find him. But that will take minutes. Three hours––and you won’t weaken, will you, dear?”
Mary Hope leaned against him, clutched him, shivered at the crashing thunder. “It’s awful,” she moaned. “I’m afraid you might be hit––”
“Afraid? A Douglas not as game as a Lorrigan?” He shook her, lifted his eyebrows at her, pursed his lips at her, shook her again and kissed her. “I can’t love a girl who’s afraid of thunder. Your mother’s all right, you know. We saw where that bolt struck––fifty yards, almost, from where she was. She got a shock, that’s all. But we’ll have a doctor here and make him take the responsibility. And I’ll be back in three hours, and you’re going to be game––just as game as you’ve always been.”
He pulled his hat down over his eyes, buttoned his wet coat to the chin, laid his hand for a minute over the faintly pulsating heart of Mother Douglas, swept Mary Hope up in his arms and kissed her again, pulled open the door and was gone.