Griselda knew no more till she found herself in a strange room, and with an unfamiliar face bending over her.
"Where am I?" she asked, sitting up, and looking round bewildered.
"You are safe with us, my dear young lady. You must take this glass of reviving mixture, made from a receipt of my mother's."
And Caroline Herschel held the glass to Griselda's lips.
"How did I get here?"
"My brother Alexander brought you; but do not ask further questions, but lie still."
The draught seemed to restore poor Griselda to consciousness, and with consciousness the memory of what had happened came back.
"Oh!" she said; "did—did he die? I saw him fall. Yes; I remember now. For pity's sake, answer me!"
It was well for Griselda that she was in the hands of a person at once so sincere and so really kind-hearted. While many well-meaning people would have fenced the question, and put it off, she answered quietly:
"Mr. Leslie Travers is very dangerously hurt. He is lying in his mother's house hard by; and all that care and tenderness can do will be done."