Miss Thane caught him as he fell back, and lowered him on to his pillows. “Now see what you have done!” she said severely. “Hartshorn, Eustacie!”
“I would like very much to kill you!” Eustacie told her cousin fiercely, and bent over the bed, holding the hartshorn under Ludovic’s nose.
He came round in a minute or two, and opened his eyes. “Tristram!” he muttered. “My ring, Tristram!”
Shield brought a glass of water to the bed, and, raising Ludovic, held it to his lips. “Drink this, and don’t be a fool!”
“Damn you, take your hands off me!” Ludovic whispered.
Sir Tristram paid no heed to this, but obliged him to drink some of the water. He laid him down again, and handed the glass to Miss Thane. “Listen to me!” he said, standing over Ludovic. “I never had your ring in my hands in my life. Until this moment I would have sworn it was in your possession.”
Ludovic had averted his face, but he turned his head at that. “If you have not got it, who has?” he said wearily.
“I don’t know, but I’ll do my best to find out,” replied Shield.
Eustacie drew a deep breath. “I see that I have misjudged you, Cousin Tristram,” she said handsomely. “One must make reparation, enfin. I will marry you.”
“Thank you,” said Sir Tristram, “but the matter does not call for such a sacrifice as that, I assure you.” He saw a certain raptness steal into her eyes, and added: “Don’t waste time picturing yourself in the role of a martyred bride, I beg of you! I haven’t the smallest desire to marry you.”