But she sank in a heap on the Persian carpet.
'Lift her up, Harry,' said his sister.
Harry was only too ready, and raised her at once in his strong arms.
'Oh, please to put me down,' said Eveline, imploringly; 'don't touch me—I can walk.'
'Nonsense, dear Lady Puddicombe—you must permit me,' he urged.
And holding the helpless girl close to him—so close as to preclude all attempted resistance on her part—he bore her steadily upstairs, and past the room where it lay, covered with a sheet, and straight to a new apartment prepared for her, followed by his sister and Clairette.
The fast, horsey baronet's breath mingled with hers, but unconsciously for her, poor girl! Her soft face reclined on his shoulder, and he saw just then, more than ever, how fair and delicate—how very lovely she was; and he began to develop—or scheme out—some very ambitious plans of his own.
Hurdell Hall and the Hurdell estates were rather deeply dipped, and thus 'Old Pudd's money, even if encumbered by such a lovely bride, would be very acceptable when the time came.'
So thought Sir Harry, with the man—but a few hours dead—lying stark and stiff within a few yards of him.
Fortunately for Eveline, 'Nature's innocent opium, fatigue'—with her it was fatigue of mind—procured her some sleep; thus she was supposed to be the better able for what she would be compelled to hear on the morrow, as a telegram had arrived from Lady Aberfeldie—addressed to her—a document that, as Sir Harry said, 'proved a regular floorer, by Jove!'