"Oh, doctor, is she hurt?" asked the woman in tremulous tones, as she hastily handed him a gourd filled with water from the well bucket.
He did not answer for a moment. He was sprinkling the water upon the still, white face, his own nearly as colorless. Would she never revive? those sweet eyes never open again?
Ah, the lids began to quiver, a faint tinge of rose stole into the fair, softly rounded cheek.
"I hope not," he said with an effort. "It was the fright probably. A fan, please."
Mrs. Nash brought one and gave it in silence.
Nell's eyes opened wide, gazing full into his. The faint tinge on her cheek deepened instantly to crimson, and starting up in confusion, she hastily stammered out some incoherent words, and burst into tears.
"Lie still for a little, Nell," Kenneth said, gently forcing her back.
Never were tones more musical with tenderness, never had eyes spoken a plainer language, and the girl's heart thrilled with a new, ecstatic joy. For years her hard but determined task had been to school it to indifference; but now, now she might let it have its way. He, so noble, so good, would never deceive her, never wrong her.
"Oh, Nell, you are not hurt? not bitten?" exclaimed Mrs. Nash almost imploringly.
"Hurt? bitten?" repeated Nell, in a half bewildered way. Then as her eye fell upon the dead cat and the whole scene came back to her with a rush, "No, no," she said, shuddering and hiding her face in her hands; "it sprang at me, but missed and fell back on the floor, and at last it ran its head into the noose, jerked away and strangled, and"—laughing hysterically—"I don't know what happened after that."