"No; we are much nearer the hut than the hall, and even if it were not so, I would not have her taken back there."
They were in fact going up the path leading to the hut on the top of the hill. So, by dint of much lugging and tugging, and many breathless pauses to rest, the old man succeeded in bearing his lifeless burden to the hut.
CHAPTER XI.
THE MARTYRS OF LOVE.
So Nora's lifeless form was laid upon the bed. Old Mrs. Jones, who had fallen asleep in her chair, was aroused by the disturbance, and stumbled up only half awake to see what was the matter, and to offer her assistance.
Old Jovial had modestly retired to the chimney corner, leaving the poor girl to the personal attention of her sister.
Hannah had thrown off her shawl and bonnet, and was hastily divesting Nora of her wet garments, when the old nurse appeared at her side.
"Oh, Mrs. Jones, is she dead?" cried the elder sister.
"No," replied the oracle, putting her warm hand upon the heart of the patient, "only in a dead faint and chilled to the marrow of her bones, poor heart! Whatever made her run out so in this storm? Where did you find her? had she fallen down in a fit? What was the cause on it?" she went on to hurry question upon question, with the vehemence of an old gossip starving for sensation news.