“Have you sent for a surgeon?” said Sir Ulick, coolly.
“Certainly—sent off a fellow on my own horse directly. Sir, will you come on to the gardener’s house; I want you to see him, to know what you’ll think. If he die, I am a murderer,” repeated Ormond.
This horrible idea so possessed his imagination, that he could not answer or hear any of the farther questions that were asked by Lady O’Shane and Miss Black; but after gazing upon them with unmeaning eyes for a moment in silence, walked rapidly on: as he was passing by the steps of the green-house, he stopped short at the sight of Miss Annaly, who was still sitting there. “What’s the matter?” said he, in a tone of great compassion, going close up to her. Then, recollecting himself, he hurried forward again.
“As I can be of no use—unless I can be of any use,” said Miss Annaly, “I will, now that I am well enough, return—my mother will wonder what has become of me.”
“Sir Ulick, give me the key of the conservatory, to let Miss Annaly into the ball-room.”
“Miss Annaly does not wish to dance any more to-night, I believe,” said Sir Ulick.
“Dance—oh! no.”
“Then, without exciting observation, you can all get in better at the back door of the house, and Miss Annaly can go up the back stairs to Lady Annaly’s room, without meeting any one; and you, Lady O’Shane,” added he, in a low voice, “order up supper, and say nothing of what has passed. Miss Black, you hear what I desire—no gossiping.”
To get to the back door they had to walk round the house, and in their way they passed the gardener’s. The surgeon had just arrived.
“Go on, ladies, pray,” said Sir Ulick; “what stops you?”