"Why not carry her to her chamber—put her in bed, and let us be off?" said Rivers.
"Wait awhile!" was the answer.
The girl had evidently received a severe shock. Munro shook his head, and looked at Rivers angrily.
"See to it, Guy, if any harm comes to her."
"Pshaw!" said the other, "she is recovering now."
He was right. The eyes of the sufferer unclosed, but they were vacant—they lacked all intelligence. Munro pulled a flask of spirits from his pocket, and poured some into her lips. They were livid, and her cheeks of ashy paleness.
"She recovers—see!"
The teeth opened and shut together again with a sudden spasmodic energy. The eyes began to receive light. Her breathing increased.
"She will do now," muttered Munro. "She will recover directly. Get yourself ready, Guy, and prepare to mount, while I see that she is put to bed. It's now a necessity that we should push this stranger to the wall, and silence him altogether. I don't oppose you now, seeing that we've got to do it."
"Ay," quoth Rivers, somewhat abstractedly—for he was a person of changing and capricious moods—"ay! ay! it has to be done! Well! we will do it!—as for her!"