My lady choked and sank full length upon the mossy turf. The Major stooped above her.
"Betty!" said he anxiously. "You—you're never swooning?"
"O John!" she said in strangled voice.
"Great heavens!" he exclaimed. "Art ill—sick——?"
"At—at heart, John!" she murmured, stealing a look at his anxious face. The Major stood suddenly erect, frowning a little.
"Madam!" said he. A deep sigh. "My lady—mam——"
"Do not—call me so!"
"You'll take a rheum—a cold, lying there—'tis a heavy dew!"
"Why then I will—let me, John."
"Pray get up, mam—my lady."