“Hold my hand, then—all the way,” she murmured, without opening her eyes.
“I can carry her quite as easy as on a shutter, and it’s less moving in the end. My missus’ll have the downstairs bed all ready,” said the bailiff, encouragingly. “But first, miss, we brought a drop of brandy, as the Captain left, and some water. Will you please try for to get her to swallow a spoonful before we move her, poor lamb?”
With some difficulty Mary succeeded. Then came the lifting her, a terrible business, notwithstanding the infinite tenderness of the stalwart bailiff. And all along the lane, many times Mary would have thought her unconscious of all that was passing, but for the convulsive pressure of the little hand that clung to hers so helplessly.
Half way up the lane the sad little cortège was reinforced by Francie, still out of breath, and with great pity shining out of her big blue eyes, and further on still by. Thwaites, leading his own horse and naughty Gypsy, now perfectly subdued and serene.
“He must go for a doctor,” said Mary, at once, when she caught sight of him. “Tell him so,” she added, turning to the young farm servant who had accompanied the bailiff. “Let me see—yes, Mr Brandreth at Withenden is the nearest.”
“That’s him as we always have at the Hall,” said Thwaites, catching the words; and apparently thankful to be told what to do, he gave over Gypsy to the young man’s charge, and mounting his own horse, was off in a moment.
The “down-stairs bed” was ready, and clean and comfortable enough to make Mary rejoice that the accident had not happened in a still more isolated part of the country.
“You are very brave,” she whispered, when at last the agony of the movement was over, and Alys, with death-white cheeks and quivering lips, was laid in the easiest position their ignorance could achieve.
A faint smile flickered over the poor girl’s face.
“Am I?” she whispered. “I am so glad. Please tell Laurence—and—Mary, kiss me, please. Somehow I have always wanted to love you both—her too—she is so pretty,” she murmured, softly. “And fancy my being in Arthur’s house like this.”