Here a woman came up and spoke to Lady Malvern.
"I shall be only too pleased to have the young lady brought into my house, madam," she said. "A very good doctor lives just round the corner, and he can be summoned at once."
"Yes, yes; send for him immediately," said Quentyns.
He strode into the house with his light burden. Hilda was laid upon a sofa, and in a few moments the doctor arrived. He felt her all over and said that no bones were broken, and that no severe injury of any kind had occurred, but both fall and shock had been very severe. He counseled her being left undisturbed in her present condition until the morning.
"Then I will go home," said Lady Malvern. "You will look after her yourself, Jasper?"
"Need you ask?" he replied. He followed his aunt to the door as he spoke.
"Hilda had a narrow escape of her life," said Lady Malvern, looking full at her nephew as she spoke. "How sudden and awful it all was! There were we chatting together, and thinking no more of danger than if such a thing did not exist, when all in an instant came that awful bolt from the blue. I shall never forget the swinging of the carriage and the way the horses looked when they plunged and kicked about, or the white piteous face of your sweet little Hilda, who would not scream nor show any outward sign of terror. I thought it was all over with both of us—I did really, Jasper. I cannot tell you how thankful we ought to be that things are no worse."
"You are sure then that Hilda is not in danger?" queried the young man in a tremulous voice.
"No, no; what did you hear the doctor say, you silly boy? Perhaps the best thing that could have happened to Hilda was this accident, dreadful as it was for the moment. Perhaps—well, Jasper, I think you must know what I mean."
"Has Hilda been talking about me?" asked Jasper, a wave of red mounting to his brow.