The young naval officer, who looked rather ghastly, now approached Margaret.
He knelt down and gazed with horror upon her set face.
"Good gracious! I am afraid she's gone, poor girl," he ejaculated. "Julie—Cousin Julie! Do you think she is dead, madam? Oh, Julie, dear, speak to me!"
"She is not dead," answered Margaret. "If we could have her removed to some house, there might be some help for her."
"A poor man's hut ain't for such as her," said the bricklayer, drawing his hand over his heated face; "but she's welcome to the best bed in it."
"Thank you. We shall convey her there at once," replied the young man.
They constructed a hasty litter of branches, and, calling a brawny-armed boy, Doane set off with his burden.
In a few minutes they reached the bricklayer's cottage, and a clean bed was hastily prepared for the victim of the disaster.
The young gentleman waited in the little kitchen until Margaret could give him a report of the lady's state. In a very short space of time she joined him.
"Lady Juliana is still insensible. I fear her injuries are dangerous, but I can only use my best skill until some physician comes," she said, trying to speak cheerfully.