He clasped his sister in his arms, exclaiming, as he did so, “Darling, dearest Hilary!” in the tones of the fondest endearment; then added, with agonized doubt,
“Oh, Hepburn, is she dead?”
Her pale cheeks, closed eyes, and inanimate form terrified him, and he looked to his friend for advice, assistance, or at least for comfort.
“Heaven forbid!” cried the other, eagerly catching her hand, and endeavoring to feel her pulse, “she has only fainted from alarm. She must be taken to the house.”
“Carry your sister to the house this moment,” cried Victoria; “I have dispatched little Nest there already, and will send some one to make preparations, and give orders.”
A gentleman present, a relative of the Barhams, offered to run on and carry a message, but Sybil sprang forward—
“Let me go, Miss Fielding, give me the necessary directions.”
Victoria gave a hasty message to the housekeeper, and Sybil was off with a fleetness, and a knowledge of the shortest road, which distanced Mr. Farrington completely.
Some of the many shawls which were proffered for the use of the sufferers, were hastily wrapped around Hilary, and, raising her in his arms, her brother walked off with steady steps toward the house.
Charles and Captain Hepburn accompanied him, each entirely occupied by thoughts of her, and neither at that moment caring to conceal it.