The crowd that so miraculously appears upon the scene of even a suburban accident, was closing about her, when, leaving the horses to the care or the neglect of others, Leslie Galt dropped on one knee, and lifting the pallid face, whose left side, dust-smeared, bruised, and sand-cut, was so piteous a sight to him, in breathless, unthinking haste, cried: "Dorothy! my darling! For God's sake, speak to me!"
And even as the words left his lips he remembered his situation, but it was too late. He caught the exchanged glances, the half-wink, half-leer on the face of a hulking fellow, and, like a flash, boldly lied to protect the helpless girl, saying: "Run for a doctor, someone, please! This is my affianced wife, Miss Lawton, and I dare not think of leaving her!"
The effect of that statement was instantaneous. Murmurs of sympathy were heard, women pressed closer. One drew the tossed skirt smooth about the girl's ankles; another produced a smelling bottle from her chatelaine; a third gently strove to straighten that crumpled looking arm; while the leering fellow went plunging diagonally across the street to call out a doctor residing near. Galt had barely time to feel a pang of terror over his headlong assertion, an awful fear that Dorothy might repudiate his claim, when the furious policeman came pounding up, threatening unspeakable and dire punishment for this disturber of the peace, this breaker of the law, and—and horse-thief, and demanding that he submit at once to arrest.
"All right," answered Galt. "As an officer you have every right to hale me to prison; and yet, as a man, I'm sure you will make some allowance for a fellow who sees his future wife in danger! For," desperately thought Leslie, "I may as well hang for a sheep as a lamb, and stick now to my claim."
Then, with a glint in his eye, he added, innocently: "I know you are anxious not only to lock me up, officer, but to get the opportunity to explain to your superiors how you and your horse came to be so widely separated while you were on duty?"
The policeman's jaw dropped a bit. He looked distinctly troubled. A lady came out just then and asked that the injured girl be brought into her house, and, as the policeman stooped to help Leslie lift her, he exclaimed: "God be good to us! Wh-y it's Miss Dorothy Lawton! Won't there be ructions when the old man at home hears of this! Them girls are just his two eyes! What's that? Will I be leavin' you free of arrist till the doctor comes? What kind of a bounder do you take me for, anyway? I'll leave you free till you'll be gettin' the little colleen safe home, sure, and thin maybe you'll show up and stand for a fine and the like? Divil take that gang out there!" and out he charged upon the crowd.
Finding himself for a few precious moments alone with Dorothy, who was lying on a settle in a hall, Galt began a hurried search of his breast-pocket. He brought out a small box, and, opening it, was shaking out into his palm a glittering ring, when a faint moan reached his ear, and, bending over, he saw the blue eyes he loved slowly open, saw the dazed look passing, and as glad recognition dawned in them he swiftly took her hand, and slipping the ring upon her finger, he whispered, rapidly, urgently: "Little Dorothy, listen! Try to understand! And oh, try, too, to forgive me! But you are hurt, dear, and that I may have the right to protect and care for you, I—I—oh, Dorrie, see, dear!" He lifted her hand that she might see the ring. "I have dared to claim you, sweet—have declared you my promised wife! For God's sake, don't deny me! Promise!"
But Dorothy promised nothing. The faint blush that had crept into her cheek died there. The wide-amazed eyes slowly closed, and in utter silence she slipped back into the unconsciousness in which the doctor presently found her.