Captain Clair looked bewildered and thoroughly ashamed, for often the only excuse for daring is its success.
Mr. Ware fortunately soon reached the spot, and though extremely vexed at such a termination to the day's enjoyment, merely roused his nephew, by telling him to carry the poor child into the house, and then to fetch a doctor, that they might be certain she had sustained no serious injury.
His nephew, too happy to have some duty assigned, raised Amy in his arms, for she was perfectly insensible, and, as Mabel supported her drooping head, carried her into the house. Mabel's conduct during that short walk cut him to the heart; she seemed entirely to have forgotten that his obstinacy had injured her sister; and in her anxiety for her safety, she did not suffer a complaining word to escape her. Those who possess little control over their own feelings, often reverence those who have great self-command—and to Clair, who a few minutes before, had been laughing with almost childish excitement, and was now utterly depressed, Mabel seemed like a superior being in the calm dignity of her silent distress.
At length, Amy was safely placed upon her bed, and leaving Mabel and their servant-maid to try every means to restore her to consciousness, he hastened in search of a surgeon. He met Lucy in the lane, who told him that she had anticipated his errand, but that the doctor had gone to see a patient many miles away.
"Then I shall go for a horse, and follow him," said he, "anything will be better than this suspense."
"And what shall I do?" cried Lucy, wringing her hands; but Clair had no comfort to offer, and hurried on to the village to find a horse.
Lucy returned to the house, frightened, and ashamed. She did not like to remain alone, yet there was no one in the sitting-room; and not daring to seek any one, she retired to her own chamber, which looked so still and lonely, that she put the door half open, and seated herself in a chair close by, to listen for any news from Amy's room. She could not help recalling to herself the wild laugh of the poor child only half an hour before, and she could not bear to think of how still she was lying there.
At length she heard Betsy, the privileged maid, say:—
"It is all Miss Lucy's fault, I know, for the house has not been the same since she came into it."