She knelt beside Sir Beverley, overcoming a horrible sensation of sickness as she did so. The whole catastrophe had been of so sudden and so violent a nature that she felt almost stunned herself.
She slipped an arm under the old man's head, and it hung upon her like a leaden weight.
"Oh, Avery, how dreadful!" exclaimed Gracie, aghast.
"Take my handkerchief!" said Avery quickly. "Run down and soak it in the stream! Mind how you go! It's very steep."
Gracie went like the wind.
Avery began with fingers that shook in spite of her utmost resolution, to try to loosen Sir Beverley's collar.
"Let me!" said Ronald, gently.
She glanced up gratefully and relinquished the task to him. Ronald was neat in all his ways.
The return of Gracie with the wet handkerchief gave her something to do, and she tenderly moistened the stark, white face. But the children's fears were crowding thick in her own heart. That awful inertness looked so terribly like death.
And then suddenly the grim lips parted and a quivering sigh passed through them.