With the most tender care, Paul Desfrayne placed his inanimate charge upon one of the carved oaken seats, and then stood by, watching her.
A half-sobbing sigh told that the young girl was reviving, and she turned wildly, to seek for Blanche.
“You are safe now, if in some discomfort,” said Captain Desfrayne, in a reassuring tone, though he partially averted his gaze. “Will you remain here until I summon assistance? Are you afraid to stay unprotected? There is not the slightest fear of any intrusion. If any living being come within these walls, it will be only some country lout seeking shelter from the storm.”
“Where are we?” asked Lois, looking about her as if still half-dazed.
“Within the walls of an old ruined abbey about three-quarters of a mile from—from Flore Hall.” He pronounced the name of the place with some difficulty, as if it were distasteful to him.
“But you will be obliged to go through the rain,” objected Blanche, who was pleased by the handsome face and chivalrous bearing of the captain.
“No. If necessary, I should not hesitate to do so. My horse is waiting for me under shelter in a ruined stable close by, and I could soon ride the distance. But my desire to aid you will not be put to any trial. There are rude, covered, subterranean passages from this spot to the Hall, and I can easily traverse them, for I know every inch of the ground.”
“What thanks do we not owe you, sir!” exclaimed Miss Dormer.
Lois remained silent, her eyes bent on the ground, her color varying with each wave of thought that passed through her brain.
Partly rejoiced at his temporary release, partly dubious of the propriety of quitting these timid girls, Captain Desfrayne turned to go on his errand.