Donal would have carried her, but she moaned so, that he gave up the idea at once. Davie was gone for help; it would be better to wait! He pulled off his coat and laid it over her, then kneeling, raised her head a little from the damp ground upon his arm. She let him do as he pleased, but did not open her eyes.
They had not long to wait. Several came running, among them lord Forgue. He fell beside his cousin on his knees, and took her hand in his. She neither moved nor spoke. As instead of doing anything he merely persisted in claiming her attention, Donal saw it was for him to give orders.
“My lady is much hurt,” he said: “one of you go at once for the doctor; the others bring a hand-barrow—I know there is one about the place. Lay the squab of a sofa on it, and make haste. Let mistress Brookes know.”
“Mind your own business,” said Forgue.
“Do as Mr. Grant tells you,” said lady Arctura, without opening her eyes.
The men departed running. Forgue rose from his knees, and walked slowly to a little distance, where he stood gnawing his lip.
“My lord,” said Donal, “please run and fetch a little brandy for her ladyship. She has fainted.”
What could Forgue do but obey! He started at once, and with tolerable speed. Then Arctura opened her eyes, and smiled.
“Are you suffering much, my lady?” asked Donal.
“A good deal,” she answered, “but I don’t mind it.—Thank you for not leaving me.—It is no more than I can bear, only bad when I try to move.”