"Yes, very slightly; we met him once or twice at Oakton Park, and he called at the Chase. But I did not like him. I kept Hyacinth carefully out of his way."
"What can we do for her?" he asked, in a trembling voice.
"Nothing," said Lady Vaughan. "Do not call the servants; they make such a fuss about anything of this kind. Let the fresh air blow over her."
They raised her up and laid her upon the couch. Sir Arthur threw open the doors into the conservatory, and opened the windows in that room also, to admit currents of fresh air. Lady Vaughan withdrew with noiseless step to another room for a glass of cool water. Adrian bent over the wholly unconscious form of his darling, his face almost as white as her own in his anxiety. Suddenly he remembered that he had acquired a slight knowledge of surgery in his University life, and drawing a lancet from his pocket, he made a slight incision in the beautiful snowy arm that lay so limp and lifeless upon his hand.
One or two drops of blood from the cut stained his fingers. Passionately he kissed the wound that he had made in his love, but though a slight moan escaped her lips, Hyacinth did not yet move nor awaken from her swoon. The old people returned, and Lady Vaughan moistened the pallid brow and colorless lips. Again that moan came, the girl moved, and presently the white lips parted with a sigh, and the eyes opened with a look of terror in them which Adrian never forgot.
"I am so frightened!" she said.
"My darling!" cried Adrian, "I am sorry you heard anything about it. Why need you be frightened?"
"I am shocked," she said, and the ghastly fear deepened in her eyes.
"Of course you are—one so young, so fair, so gentle. The very word 'murder' is enough to terrify you."
Then she lay perfectly still—holding her lover's hand in hers, looking at him with such wordless sorrow, such unutterable woe in her face. Lady Vaughan brought her a glass of wine; she drank it, hardly knowing what she did, and then the elder lady, bending over her, kissed her face.