'I don't know. He came hobbling in after his goose-chase to London on your account, losing a couple of days' work; and I warrant he will have to be shaken before he gets about his business.'
'I can get downstairs,' Mary said, 'if Ned will help to carry me. I fear I cannot put my leg to the ground yet.'
'No; and you may give up the notion. If you come down, you may as lief do without a nurse, and take to your lawful business. It is a pretty thing!—one of you gadding off to town and thinking herself a fine lady, and t'other laming herself and wanting to be tended by a paid woman.'
At this juncture Goody Pearse awoke, bewildered and much alarmed by the presence of Mistress Forrester. She expected a sharp reprimand, but Mistress Forrester left the room without another word either to nurse or patient.
'Dear heart! what made you get up afore I was ready? You'll have raging pain in your foot again, sure as fate.'
'I must get downstairs to-day to see Master Humphrey Ratcliffe. Ned will help me.'
Mary's resolution did not falter. Her humble and faithful admirer, Ned, appeared at the attic door, when summoned by Goody Pearse, to help her downstairs. Ned made short work of it; he lifted Mary in his arms, and trudged down the creaking steps with her without a single halt, and placed her by her desire on the settle, where her leg could rest. Mary's smile was a sufficient reward for Ned. But when Mary held out her hand, and said she owed him more than tongue could tell for going to London, Ned was speechless with emotion. At last he blurted out,—
'I'd walk a hundred miles to serve you, Mistress; I'd even ride 'em for your sake. But, oh, Lord! I am sore to-day with the cramp I got a-horseback. Here is a letter from Master Ratcliffe; he bid me put into your hands and into none other, and I have kept to the order. Take it, Mistress.'
Mary held out her hand, and took the much crumpled and soiled letter from Ned's large, brown fingers. But she had not opened it when Humphrey Ratcliffe himself came up to the porch, and stopped short on the threshold as if struck by some sudden blow.
He was not prepared to see so great a change in Mary in so short a time. Pain of body, however severe, nor the deep cut in her forehead, could hardly have left such traces of suffering on her face—still, in Humphrey's eyes, beautiful, though with lines of sorrow round her mouth and eyes.