“Hurrah!” shouted Bottler! and every one present, Mabel included, joined the shout.
“Be quick, be quick! It is no time for words,” cried the tall man, shaking his dress on the snow; “let me have the lady; you bring the fine fellow as quickly as possible to Bottler’s yard. Bottler, just show us the shortest way.”
“To be sure, sir,” Mr. Bottler answered; “but, Major, you cannot carry her, and the drops are freezing on you.”
“Do as I told you. Run in front of me; and just show the shortest road.”
“Dash my stockings!” cried Master Bottler; “they won’t be worth looking at to-morrow. And all through the snow, I’ve kept un white. And I ain’t got any more clean ones.”
However he took a short cut to his yard; while Aylmer, with the lady in his arms, and her head hanging over his shoulder, followed so fast, that the good pig-sticker could scarcely keep in front of him.
“Never mind me,” cried brave Charlie, reviving; “I am as right as ever. Mabel, go on and help; though I fear it is too late to do any good.”
“Whoever it is, it is dead as a stone,” said the counsellor, wiping the wet from his sleeves; “it fell away from me like an empty bag; you might have spared your ducking, Charlie. But it must have been a lovely young woman.”
“Dead or alive, I have done my duty. But don’t you know who it is? Oh, Mabel!”
“How could I see her face?” said Mabel; “the men would not let me touch her. And about here I know no one.”