“All right,” responded Erie, cheerfully; “I can carry you as far as that easily.”
“Oh! but we must not go to the Grange,” returned Fay, in rather a regretful voice. She was suffering a good deal of pain with her foot, her boot hurt her so, but she would not make a fuss. “The Ferrers are the only people who have not called on us, and Hugh would not like me to go there.”
“Nonsense,” replied Erie, impatiently; “what does that matter in a case like this. I suppose you think that good Samaritan ought to have left his card first before he helped that poor traveler?”
Fay tried to laugh, but it was rather an effort. “You do not understand,” she said, gently; “Hugh used to know the Ferrers, and he says they are very nice people; he is the blind vicar of Sandycliffe, and his sister lives with him. I do not know whether they are old or young; but Hugh said that he had had a misunderstanding with them, and that it would be very awkward to renew the acquaintance; he does not wish me to visit them.”
“Perhaps not. I dare say the Samaritan and the unfortunate traveler were not on visiting terms afterward, but under the present agreeable circumstances we must certainly avail ourselves of the first shelter that offers itself. Hugh would quite approve of my advice, and in his absence must allow me to judge for you;” and there was a slight peremptoriness in Erle’s voice, to which Fay yielded, for she offered no resistance when he lifted her from the ground with his old playful smile.
Fay was very small and light, but her furs were heavy; still, Erle was strong and wiry, and he carried her easily enough—he actually had breath to joke too—while the two dogs bounded before him barking joyously, and actually turning in at the Grange gates of their own accord—at least Pierre did, and Nero followed him.
Erle looked up curiously at the old red-brick house, with its picturesque gables and mullioned windows, and then, as he deposited Fay on the stone seat inside the porch, and was just raising his hand to the knocker, the door opened, and a very tall man in clerical dress appeared suddenly on the threshold. Erle’s hand fell to his side, and he and Fay exchanged puzzled glances; it must be Mr. Ferrers, they thought, and of course he did not know any one was there. He stood with his face turned to the wintery sunshine, and his grand massive-looking head bowed a little. The next moment Pierre jumped up and licked his hands, and tried to put his huge paws on his shoulder, whining with delight. Mr. Ferrers started slightly. “Why, Pierre, my fine fellow, I ought to know that rough greeting of yours by this time; it is a long time since you have called at the Grange; whom have you brought with you, Pierre?” stroking the dog’s noble head.
Erle came forward at once. “My cousin, Lady Redmond, has met with rather an awkward accident in one of the lanes—she has sprained her ankle, and is in great pain; may I lift her on that comfortable oak-settle by the hall fire while I go in search of help. I am Sir Hugh’s cousin, Erle Huntingdon.”
“Lady Redmond,” ejaculated Mr. Ferrers; and Fay wondered at the sudden shadow that passed over her host’s fine face. “Oh, yes, bring her in, Mr. Huntingdon, but we must find a softer couch than the oak-settle. Margaret—where are you, Margaret?” and the next moment a clear, pleasant voice answered, “I am here, Raby;” and a tall, graceful-looking woman, with dead-brown hair and calm beautiful face, crossed the long hall. Fay seemed to see her coming through a sort of haze, and she put out her hands involuntarily; Margaret’s voice changed as she took them. “Ah, poor child, she is faint. Will you bring her into my morning-room, Mr. Huntingdon, there is an easy couch there, and a nice fire;” and Margaret led the way to a pleasant room with an old-fashioned bay window overlooking the sunny lawn and yew-tree walk; and then took off the little sealskin hat with hands that trembled slightly, and laid the pretty head with its softly ruffled hair on the cushions, and then put some wine to Fay’s lips. Fay roused herself and drank some obediently, and a little color came back to her face. “It is my foot, the boot hurts it so,” she said, faintly.
“Yes, because it is so swelled,” returned Miss Ferrers, in a sympathizing voice. “Mr. Huntingdon, if you will ring the bell I will ask my maid for some hot water. I think that will relieve Lady Redmond; and if you will kindly join my brother, you will find him outside. Ruth and I will soon make your cousin more comfortable;” and Erle at once took the hint.