“Oh, nothing at all! Peggy wanted to get into the store-room without wasting time looking for a key that was mislaid, and I ran up a ladder and got in by the window. That was all; but unfortunately I put down my foot trusting to alight on the floor, leant all my weight on an empty box, and—this is the consequence!”
It was an extraordinary statement, despite the matter-of-course manner in which the words were uttered. It is not usual in well-conducted households for gentlemen visitors to scramble through windows on the second storey, or for the daughter of the house to utilise such services to remedy the effect of her own carelessness. The parents of ordinary children would have been breathless with horror at listening to such a recital, but it must be remembered that Arthur and Peggy Saville had never been ordinary in their habits. From earliest youth they had scorned the obvious ways of locomotion, had chosen to descend the staircase on a toboggan improvised out of a kitchen tea-tray rather than to walk from step to step like rational beings, and to ascend on the outside rather than the inside of the banisters, so that their belongings had grown to expect the unexpected, and Major Darcy’s explanation caused less consternation than might have been expected.
Mrs Saville sighed, and her husband uttered an exclamation of impatience, but both were much more concerned about the condition of the invalid than the cause of his accident, for it was evident that with every moment the pain in the foot grew more severe.
“A pretty bad consequence, it seems to me!” quoth the colonel grimly. “I’ll tell you what it is, my dear fellow; you had better come into the library with me at once, and let me take you in hand. The others can get on with their lunch while Mary brings me what I want. I’ll make you comfortable in ten minutes, and then we’ll send over a cart to The Larches and get a bag packed, and keep you here for a day or two until you can get about again. Least thing we can do to nurse you round, when you have hurt yourself in our service.”
Hector protested, but in no very vigorous fashion. Truth to tell, the prospect of being housed at Yew Hedge, with the colonel as companion and Peggy as nurse, was much more congenial than the thought of returning to the big, desolate house where Rob reigned in solitary state and the sitting-rooms were shrouded in holland wrappings. He allowed himself to be persuaded, submitted to the sponging and binding which ensued with a docility which advanced him far in the host’s good graces, and ate his luncheon on the sofa in approved invalid fashion.
It was not until late in the afternoon that Peggy had a chance of interviewing Hector alone, and of expressing her thanks for the double service which he had rendered, but when Mrs Saville retired for her usual rest, and the colonel accompanied the other guest down the drive, her opportunity came. She was sitting by the tea-table, which had been placed close to the sofa for the convenience of the invalid, and Hector was leaning against his cushions watching her little hands flying in and out of her work. Peggy always made a great affectation of being busy, and had at least half-a-dozen pieces of fancy work hidden away in as many drawers, waiting completion at that indefinite period when she should remember their existence. She glanced at him now, and tried to speak, threaded a new length of silk, and stitched more assiduously than ever, glanced again, began a sentence, broke off in confusion, and to her inward rage felt her cheeks flaming with colour.
Why did he stare so fixedly? Why did he look so queer? It was most embarrassing, most annoying. She would have liked to show her displeasure, but how could she, when he was suffering through her folly, and had been so chivalrous in shielding her from blame?
“I—I want to say all sorts of things,” she stammered uncomfortably, “and I can’t think of one! I’m sorry, I’m ashamed, I’m grateful, I feel a miserable culprit. I don’t know what you must think of me and my miserable carelessness. I wish you would be cross, and say every horrid thing you could think of. It would help me more than anything else!”
But Hector only laughed, a cheerful, complacent laugh.
“I don’t feel the least inclined to be cross. I have had no pain since your father doctored me, and I am remarkably comfortable sitting on this sofa. I look upon the little contretemps as a blessing in disguise, since it has gained me some days at Yew Hedge. Don’t be sorry any more, Peggy, but be as grateful as you please, and show your gratitude by giving me as much of your society as you can spare from your many interests. My time is growing short now, and I have seen so little of you lately.”