"O Claude, darling Claude, speak! Just one word!—He is not dead! Oh, say he is not dead!"
"No, Miss Warner," said the lad in a calm, firm voice, "he is not dead, only faint from the effects of a bad fall; and I think he has dislocated his ankle. See, he is looking up. Let me carry him into the house."
But Dr. Warner strode up, his face white and stern.
"Thank God, and you also, M'Ivor," he said.
Then putting Priscilla determinedly aside, he carried the child home himself.
"Get Dr. la Rue instantly."
And allowing no one into the room save nurse and Miss Vernon, he sat down to watch till the doctor arrived.
In vain Priscilla sought admittance. As yet her father's wrath against her was too great to permit him even to look at her.
But when the doctor arrived, the girl forced her way into the room and heard his opinion.
Yes; Claude would live, he believed. He had sustained no serious injury; but a bone in the ankle was broken, and it would probably be weeks ere he would be able to walk. He must have perfect quiet now, and get the person he liked best to be with him.