“If there isn’t anything else, ma’am, I believe I’d better report back to the General.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Varney, “don’t wait. The wound is dressed, isn’t it?”
“Yes; I took him to the Winder Hospital. They said he would be on his feet in a day or two, but he wants to be kept pretty quiet.”
“Tell the General how it happened.”
“Very well, ma’am,” said the orderly, touching his cap and going out.
The next person to enter the room was Caroline Mitford. The noise of the men searching the house was very plain. Having informed Edith of the meaning of the tumult, she had come downstairs to enquire if they had found Thorne. She came slowly within the door—rather listlessly, in fact. The exciting events of the night in which she had taken part had somewhat sapped her natural vivacity, but she was shocked into instant action when she saw Wilfred stretched upon the sofa.
“Oh!” she breathed in a low, tense whisper; “what is it? Is he——”
“Caroline dear,” said Mrs. Varney, “it is nothing serious. He isn’t badly hurt. He was cut in the neck and fainted. There, there,”—the woman rose from Wilfred’s side and caught the girl,—“don’t you faint, too, dear.”
“I am not going to faint,” said Caroline desperately. She took Mrs. Varney’s handkerchief from the latter’s hand, and dipped it in the water. “I can take care of him,” she continued, kneeling down by her boyish lover. “I don’t need anybody down here at all. The men are going all over the house and——”
“But, Caroline——” began Mrs. Varney.