'Hush!' interposed Michael; 'don't say any more. Don't you see she has fainted? Will you move away a moment, that she may not see you? Open the window; make a thorough draught.'
Michael was doing all that he could for Mrs. Blake's comfort. He loosened her bonnet-strings and made his rug into a pillow, and, taking out his brandy flask, moistened her white lips. However she had sinned, he felt vaguely, as he knelt beside her, that hers would be a terrible expiation. Mat O'Brien stood a little behind, talking half to himself and half to Michael.
'Ah, he is a handy chap,' he soliloquised; 'he must have a wife of his own, I'm thinking. Poor lass! she does look mortal bad. I have frighted her pretty nearly to death, but it is her own fault. I never would have hurt a hair of her head. She is as handsome as ever, and as hard-hearted, too. I used to tell her she was made of stone—not a bit of love, except for the children. She is coming to, sir,' he continued excitedly; 'I was half afraid she was dead, lying so still.'
'Yes, she is recovering consciousness,' replied Michael quietly; 'but it is rather a serious fainting fit, and I must ask you to leave her to me, Mr. O'Brien. There is my card. I shall be at Rutherford, and will try to see you to-morrow—no, not to-morrow, there is the christening—but the next day. I will come over to Vineyard Cottage; there, we are stopping. Please send a porter to me.' And then Michael turned again to his patient.
She had opened her eyes and was looking at him as though she were dazed. 'Where am I? what has happened? why are you giving me brandy, Captain Burnett?'
'You have been ill,' he returned coolly; 'are you subject to these fainting fits? I want you to try and stand, and then I will help you to my fly. Porter, will you take those parcels, please. Now, Mrs. Blake, do you think you can walk?'
'I will try,' she replied in an exhausted voice, but just at that moment Mat O'Brien passed. 'Oh, I remember,' she gasped; 'the madman! It was he who frightened me so, Captain Burnett,' looking at him with a return of the old terror in her face and a sort of wildness in her eyes. 'You did not believe that improbable story? How can I, a widow, have a living husband?' And she laughed hysterically.
'Will you permit me to assist you?' was Michael's sole answer, as he lifted her from the seat; 'can you fasten your bonnet? I was obliged to give you air.' But as her trembling hands could not perform the office, he was compelled to do it himself. 'Now you can come,' he went on in a quiet, authoritative voice, that was not without its effect on her, and half leading, half supporting her, he placed her at last safely in the fly. But as he seated himself beside her, and they drove off, in the gathering dusk of the March evening, he felt a cold hand grip his wrist.
'Oh, Captain Burnett, do say that you did not believe him!'
Michael was silent.