"Whisht, your Ladyship, whisht!" he said to my grandmother. "Fetch me a drop o' water and a sponge, Miss Bawn. The cut's not a deep one. There's nothin' wrong with his Lordship, and we needn't frighten the life out o' him, wirrasthruin', when he comes back to himself. Don't tell any of the women, Miss Bawn."
I got him the water as quickly and quietly as I could, and Neil washed the blood away. The cut proved, indeed, not to be serious; but it seemed an age before my grandfather's eyes opened and he looked from Neil's face to my grandmother's.
"Have I been ill?" he asked.
"Just a bit of a wakeness, your Lordship," Neil said. "But sure, you're finely now."
I did not dare come near, but waited out of sight, dreading the time when my grandfather should remember. Presently I heard him ask for me.
"Is Bawn there?" he asked. "Where are you, child?"
I came forward and Neil withdrew. I heard the library door close behind him.
"Poor little Bawn!" my grandfather said tenderly, "poor little Bawn! We must bear whatever there is to come together, we three. God would not have this child sacrificed. I see now what a coward I was."
"Never a coward, Toby, never a coward," my grandmother cried out piteously, kissing his hand.
My grandfather put out his arm and drew me close to him.