In a minute a bed was laid in the drawing-room, and all the windows and doors open: and Edward, trembling now in every limb, ran to Musgrove Cottage, while Mrs. Dodd and Julia loosened the poor girl's dress, and bathed her wounds with tepid water (the doctor would not allow cold), and put wine carefully to her lips with a teaspoon.
“Wanted at your house, pray what for?” said Mr. Hardie superciliously.
“Oh, sir,” said Edward, “such a calamity. Pray come directly. A ruffian has struck her, has hurt her terribly, terribly.”
“Her! Who?” asked Mr. Hardie, beginning to be uneasy.
“Who! why Jane, your daughter, man; and there you sit chattering, instead of coming at once.”
Mr. Hardie rose hurriedly and put on his hat, and accompanied him, half confused.
Soon Edward's mute agitation communicated itself to him, and he went striding and trembling by his side.
The crowd had gone with insensible Maxley to the hospital, but the traces of the terrible combat were there. Where Maxley fell the last time, a bullock seemed to have been slaughtered at the least.
The miserable father came on this, and gave a great scream like a woman, and staggered back white as a sheet.
Edward laid his hand on him, for he seemed scarce able to stand.