"When did you find her?" Ronald asked, faintly.
"A little past midnight, lying like a little white heap under a tree," Walter replied.
"She was quite unconscious, and only rallied after we reached the farm with her. She could only answer a few questions, and we would not weary her. She was very nervous, and seemed disinclined for speech."
"Oh! that I were well enough to go to her," groaned Ronald.
Walter Earle looked at the pale, eager face compassionately.
"Valchester, do not worry yourself," he said, kindly. "It is not good for you. Lina will come to you the moment she is able. She said she would, and her uncle said that he would bring her. Try and be patient a few hours."
"If he would only sleep," said Mrs. Valchester, eagerly. "The doctor said he must be very quiet and sleep a good deal, but he has never even closed his eyes, and he's watching the door constantly, and asking wild questions of everyone."
Walter looked at the pale, worn face of the wounded man. He knew in his heart what the anguish of that night had been to him.
"Poor old Val," he said, gently, "how could he help it? It was hard to bear—the misery, and the terrible suspense. But now that Lina is safe, he will compose himself and go to sleep as you wish him—will you not, Ronald?" he inquired in a soothing tone.
"I will try," he answered, and closed his eyes obediently; but every now and then when they thought him asleep, a nervous start or a twitching of the eye-lids would betray the wakefulness and excitement which he was patiently striving to overcome.