They brought Severne up sensible, but moaning, and bleeding at the temple, and looking all streaky about the face.
They were going to take him to the infirmary; but Mademoiselle Klosking, with a face of angelic pity, said, “No; he bleeds, he bleeds. He must go to my house.”
They stared a little; but it takes a good deal to astonish people in a theater.
Severne was carried out, his head hastily bandaged, and he was lifted into La Klosking's carriage. One of the people of the theater was directed to go on the box, and La Klosking and Ashmead supported him, and he was taken to her lodgings. She directed him to be laid on a couch, and a physician sent for, Miss Gale not having yet returned from Liverpool, whither she had gone to attend a lecture.
Ashmead went for the physician. But almost at the door he met Miss Gale and Mr. Vizard.
“Miss,” said he, “you are wanted. There has been an accident. Mr. Severne has fallen through a trap, and into the cellar.”
“No bones broken?”
“Not he: he has only broken his head; and that will cost her a broken heart.”
“Where is he?”
“Where I hoped never to see him again.