“The young ruffian must be punished,” exclaimed the marquis. “It is evident that he is leagued with the smugglers, and this last outrage shows his desperate character. Do you feel much pain?”
“Very much; indeed, I fear that my arm is broken,” answered Lord Reginald.
On hearing this Lady Elverston came to his side. “My dear boy, I trust not,” she said; “you must go to bed, and let Mrs Cross and me examine your arm.”
“If it is broken we must send off for a surgeon immediately,” said the marquis.
“I would rather have some supper first. I dare say so would Voules, for we both of us felt very hungry as we came along, and I hope after all, no bone is broken.”
The tray was at once brought up, and though Voules did ample justice to the viands it contained, Lord Reginald, after making several ineffectual attempts to eat, had to confess that the pain overpowered him, and he allowed himself to be led off to his room by his mother and brother.
Mrs Cross, the housekeeper, was soon in attendance, having evidently, by the way her dress was put on, with her night-cap on her head, just risen from her slumbers. The young lord was quickly undressed, when, on his arm being examined, Mrs Cross declared it as her opinion that no bone was broken; and all that was required were fomentations and rest.
“I am sorry to hear so bad a character of young Hargrave. His mother and blind sister are at all events good people, and it will grieve them sorely,” observed Lady Elverston to her husband, who answered only with the significant exclamation of—
“Humph! Perhaps so.”
The pain was somewhat relieved by the fomentations applied by the housekeeper, who offered to sit up with the young lord; and though he declared that he should do very well without assistance, he was glad at length to accept her offer.