“I don’t like it. He seemed to totter as he went across the churchyard, and he blundered. I shall go and see.”
“Oh yes, go,” said Terry; “I don’t want anybody. Don’t hurry.”
Rosamond put on her hat and sped away to Mrs. Hornblower’s. As usual, the front door leading to the staircase was open, and, going up, she knocked at the sitting-room door; but the only response was such a whining and scratching that she supposed the dogs had been left prisoners there and forgotten, and so she turned the lock—but there was an obstruction; so that though Mungo and Tartar darted out and snuffed round her, only Rollo’s paw and head appeared, and there was a beseeching earnestness in his looks and little moans, as if entreating her to come in. Another push, vigorously seconded by Rollo within, showed her that it was Herbert’s shoulder that hindered her, and that he was lying outstretched on the floor, apparently just recalled to consciousness by the push; for as Rollo proceeded to his one remedy of licking, there was a faint murmur of “Who—what—”
“It is I! What is the matter?”
“Lady Rose! I’ll—I’ll try to move—oh!” His voice died away, and Rosamond thrust in her salts, and called to Mrs. Hornblower for water, but in vain. However, Herbert managed to move a little to one side. She squeezed into the doorway, hastily brought water from his bedroom within, and, kneeling down by him, bathed his face, so that he revived to say, in the same faint voice, “I’m so sorry I made such mulls. I couldn’t see. I thought I knew it by heart.”
“Never mind, never mind, dear Herbert! You are better. Couldn’t you let me help you to the sofa?”
“Oh, presently;” and as she took his head on her lap, “Thank you; I did mean to hold out till after this day’s work; but it is all right now Bindon is come.”
“Come!—is he?” she joyfully exclaimed.
“Yes, I saw him from the window. I was getting up to hail him when the room turned upside down with me.”
“There’s his step!” now exclaimed Rosamond. “Squeeze in, Mr. Bindon; you are a very welcome sight.”