And the wealthy colonel gave the little hand a fervent pressure, feeling that those timely words of his had gained him a great advantage—one of which he would not be slow to avail himself.
He was about to express his pride and satisfaction at her words in glowing terms when, with a faint cry, she sank back against the cushions and closed her eyes. She had succumbed to her pain in spite of herself and fainted.
Fortunately they were within a block of the house. The colonel seated himself beside her and supported her helpless head on his arm until the carriage stopped in front of Mrs. Arnold's splendid brown-stone mansion. Then he carefully lifted the fair burden in his arms and carried her across the pavement and up the steps, where he rang the bell.
The obsequious servant who opened the door to him stared in surprise and alarm at his burden, but silently threw open the drawing-room door, where Felise and her mother sat in company with a few visitors.
Both sprang up in bewilderment as Colonel Carlyle entered with a bow and laid the insensible Bonnibel down upon the sofa. She looked like one dead as she lay there with her closed eyes and deathly-white face, and limp hands hanging down helplessly.
"What has happened, Colonel Carlyle?" demanded Felise, stepping forward, as he bent over Bonnibel, while her mother and the guests echoed her words: "What has happened?"
"Miss Vere slipped and fell upon the ice," he answered, "and has sustained some serious injury. She has suffered much pain. Let her have medical attendance at once."
"But you," said Felise, abruptly, and almost rudely. "How came you with her?"
Colonel Carlyle looked at her in slight surprise.
"I was about crossing the pavement to enter my carriage," he explained, rather coolly, "when the accident occurred, and I had the happiness to be of service in bringing her home."