"Let me carry you; you shall go to Missy in a moment, and you shan't be taken away from her again."
They were within a few steps of the boat-house; Missy, with the child clinging obstinately to her, staggered into it, and then—well, it was all a blank after that; for the first time in her life, and the last in this history, she fainted dead away.
Jay stopped his crying, Goneril dropped her lantern, Mr. Andrews started forward and caught her in his arms. The other gentlemen, directed by Goneril, had already gone towards the house; Goneril, in an instant, seeing what happened, called to one of the men on the beach, to run for water and some brandy, and kneeling down, received Missy in her arms, and laid her gently down upon some shawls. Mr. Andrews caught up the lantern, and anxiously scanned the very white face upon the shawls. It looked dreadfully like a dead face; poor Jay was awestruck, and crept close to his father's side. Goneril chafed her hands, loosened her dress, fanned her, moved the shawls and laid her flatter on the floor. But it was an obstinate faint; even Goneril looked up alarmed into Mr. Andrews' alarmed face.
"I wish we had the doctor, though he's an ass," she said. "Send your man there for him, quick as he can go; but don't you go away yourself, I might want you—I don't know what is going to happen."
It was a moment's work to despatch the man, who was helping haul up the boat, which half a man could have done. The brandy and the water soon arrived, but failed to produce any apparent effect. "You take that hand, rub it—don't be afraid—rub it hard," said Goneril, as Mr. Andrews, kneeling on the other side, set down the lantern. "I don't like this sort of thing. I've seen a dozen women faint in my life, but they came to as quick as wink, if you dashed water on 'em. I've heard people do die sometimes of their feelings—but I never believed it before. But then, I needn't wonder—this has been an awful day, and she's looked, poor thing, like dead for the last four hours or more. Heavens, there ain't a bit of pulse in her. Just you put your ear down: I can't hear her heart beat—why don't that idiot hurry; not that he'll do any good by coming, but, my conscience, I don't want her to die on my hands. I've had enough of this sort of business. I wouldn't go through such another day. I've heard of people losing their heads when they were most wanted—I—I don't know what to do—I believe I've lost mine now—" and Goneril dropped the hand which she had been fiercely chafing, and starting up, stood with her arms upon her hips, gazing down on Missy.
Poor Goneril, the day had been a hard one, and she was made of the same clay as other women, though a little stiffer baked. She had lost her head, and her nerves were shaken, for once in her experience. Mr. Andrews' day certainly had not been less hard, but he had a man's strength to go upon, and not a woman's.
"Let us see," he said, lifting Missy and laying her where the wind blew fresh upon her from the door, then hurrying to another door pushed it open violently with his knee—"Hold the lantern down," he said—"Now give me the brandy," and he forced a drop or two into her mouth. The change of position, or the stimulant, or the fresh wind in her face, started her suspended powers into play—and a slight movement of the lips and a flutter in the pulse on which Mr. Andrews' hand was laid, showed him Goneril had been in a panic, and Missy was only paying the penalty of being an excitable woman. I hope he didn't think it was a nuisance, considering it was all about his boy. Goneril was quite ashamed of herself for having lost the head on which she so prided herself. She was almost sharp with the young lady, when, after more rubbing and more brandy, she opened her eyes and looked about her.
"I didn't know you was one of the fainting kind or I should have been prepared for you," she said, raising her up and putting some pillows and shawls behind her. The pillows and shawls she had twitched into place with asperity, the tone in which she spoke was not dulcet.
"You have given us a great fright," said Mr. Andrews, drawing a long breath as he stood up; and, taking off his hat, passed his hand over his forehead.
"It doesn't take much to frighten a man," said Goneril tartly. "Please to shut that door. Cold's as bad to die of as a fainting fit, and it's like a pair of bellows blowing on her back."