Charlotte Dexter, suddenly regaining the use of her limbs, bent down quickly and peered into the poor sightless face. Mr. Joseph had fainted. She owned no fear yet however, though it was now quite dark, and five miles lay between them and her own door. Pity was just giving away to remorse. What if she had killed him? She bent down again but found that there was no fear of that and even consciousness appeared to be returning. At this moment the sound of wheels struck her ear. Nearer and nearer it came and she soon descried a waggon coming along the road sharply in which sat one man. The rest of the waggon was empty and as it was proceeding in the direction of the village, into that, she made up her mind, should Mr. Joseph be put. As it drew near, she stepped out of the dark shade of the pines and bade the man stop.
“Whose there!” said he, “What's here? What's the matter? Why, if it ain't Miss Dexter!”
“Yes,” said she, stooping to assist her unfortunate companion. “How do you do, Farmer Wise! I—do you know Mr. Foxley—Mr. Joseph Foxley—is here—can you just see him—if you have a lantern, or, will you help me to get him into the waggon?”
Farmer Wise forgot Miss Dexter and her family pride in an instant, though at first sight the feeling of injury had somewhat revived, and he made haste to come to her relief. He found Mr. Joseph just coming to himself.
“Why, why, what's the matter?” said the Farmer. “It minds me of old times, this, when highway-men and tramps were a-infestin' the road and a-lyin' in wait for honest travellers—in the Old Country of course, Miss Dexter, not here, not here. Yet somethin's been at work here, eh! Mr. Joseph, or else I'm much mistaken. Here, lend an 'and, Miss Dexter; now, sir, can you see me?”
“Not very well,” gasped poor Mr. Joseph. “It's dark, I know,” said the farmer, “and I hadn't begun carrying my lantern yet. Never mind Here, now, place your foot there—are ye hurt anywhere that I may touch ye—tell me where I hurt ye, if I do—now then, the other foot—
“There, now it's done! Miss Dexter, ma'am there's an old blanket at the back there, lie him on that. Put his head down and let him look straight up at them stars and he'll soon get himself, I warrant. If I knew where ye were hurt, perhaps I could bind ye up. There's no wound,” anxiously.
“No,” said Mr. Joseph. “Thank you, Farmer Wise. I am—much—better—really. I was unconscious!”
“Ay,” said the farmer, “A little, and can you stand the joltin' now, are ye sure? For if ye are, we'll drive on.”
“Stay a moment,” said Mr. Joseph. “I had some flowers—a bouquet—in my hands when I—fell. I can't see—very well—in this light—look for me, will you!”