Nell, of Shorne Mills Part 2

She neither blushed nor looked shy. Indeed, she was too frightened, too absorbed by her desire for his recovery to remember herself, or the fact that this strange man's head was lying on her knee.

"I must have been unconscious," he said, almost to himself. "Yes, I've struck my head."

Then he got to his feet and stood looking at her; and his face was, if anything, whiter than it had been.

"I'm very sorry. Permit me to apologize, for I must have frightened you awfully. And"--he looked at her dress, upon which was a large wet patch where his head had rested--"and I've spoiled your dress. In short, I've made a miserable nuisance of myself."

Nell pa.s.sed his apology by.

"Are you hurt?" she asked anxiously.

"No; I think not," he replied. "I can't think how I managed to come off; I don't usually make such an a.s.s of myself."

He went for his hat, but as he stooped to pick it up he staggered, and Nell ran to him and caught his arm.

"You are hurt!" she said. "I--I was afraid so!"

"I'm giddy, that's all, I think," he said; but his lips closed tightly after his speech, and they twitched at the corners. "I expect my horse is more damaged than I am," he added, and he walked, very slowly, to where the animal stood looking from side to side with a startled air.

"Yes; knees cut. Poor old chap! It was my fault--my fau----"

He stopped, and put his hand to his head as if he were confused.

Nell went and stood close by him, with a vague kind of idea that he was going to fall and that she might help him, support him.

"You are in pain?" she asked, her brow wrinkled with her anxiety, her eyes darkened with her womanly sympathy and pity.

"Yes," he admitted frankly. "I've knocked my head, and"--he touched his arm--"and, yes, I'm afraid I've broken my arm."

"Oh!"--cried Nell, startled and aghast--"oh! you must come into the house at once--at once."

He glanced at the cottage.

"Your house?"

"Yes," said Nell. "Oh, come, please. You may faint again----"

"Oh, no, I shan't."

"But you may--you may! Take my arm; lean on me----"

He took her arm, but did not lean on her, and he smiled down at her.

"I don't look it, but I weigh nearly twelve stone, and I should bear you down," he said.

"I'm stronger than I look," said Nell. "Please come!"

"I'll put the bridle over the gate first," he said.

"No, no; I will do it. Lean against the gate while I go."

He rested one hand on the gate. She got the horse--he came as quietly as his master had done--and hitched the bridle on the post; then she drew the man's arm within hers, and led him into the house and into the drawing-room.

"Sit down," she said; "lean back. I won't be a moment. Oh, where is Molly? But perhaps I'd better not leave you."

"I'm all right. I a.s.sure you that I've no intention of fainting again,"

he said; and there was something like a touch of irritation in his tone.

Nell rang the bell and stood looking down at him anxiously. There was not a sign of self-consciousness or embarra.s.sment in her face or manner.

She was still thinking only of him.

"I'm ashamed of myself for giving you so much trouble," he said.

"It is no trouble. Why should you be ashamed? Oh, Molly! don't cry out or scream--it is all right! Be quiet now, Molly! This gentleman has been thrown from his horse, and----Oh, bring me some brandy; and, Molly, don't tell--don't frighten mamma."

Molly, with her mouth still wide open, ran out of the room, and Nell's eyes returned to the man.

He sat gazing at the carpet for a while, his brow knit with a frown, as if he found the whole affair a hideous bore, his injured arm across his knee. There was no deprecating smile of the nervous man; he made no more apologies, and it seemed to Nell that he had quite forgotten her, and was only desirous of getting rid of her and the situation generally. But he looked up as Molly came fluttering in with the brandy; and as he took the gla.s.s from Nell's hand--for the first time it shook a little--he said:

"Thanks--thanks very much. I'm all right now, and I'll hasten to take myself off."

He rose as he spoke, then his hand went out to the sofa as if in search of support, and with an articulate though audible "d.a.m.n!" he sank down again.

"I'm afraid I'll have to wait for a few minutes," he said, in a tone of annoyance. "I can't think what's the matter with me, but I feel as giddy and stupid as an owl. I'll be all right presently. Is the inn near here?"

"No," said Nell; "the inn is a long way from here; too far----"

He did not let her finish, but rather impatiently cut in with:

"Oh, but there must be some place where I can go----"

"You must not think of moving yet," she said. "I don't know much--I have not seen many accidents--but I am sure that you have hurt yourself; and you say that you have broken your arm?"

"I'm afraid so, confound it! I beg your pardon. I'll get to the inn--I have not broken my leg, and can walk well enough--and see a doctor."

Mrs. Lorton's step was heard in the pa.s.sage, and the voice of that lady was heard before she appeared in the doorway, demanding, in an injured tone:

"Eleanor, what does this mean? Why do you want brandy, and at this time of the day? Are you ill? I have always told you that some day you would suffer from this continual rus.h.i.+ng about----"

Then she stopped and stared at the two, and her hand went up to her hair with the gesture of the weakly vain woman.

"Who is it, Nell? What does it mean?" she demanded.

The man rose and bowed, and his appearance, his self-possession and well-bred bow impressed Mrs. Lorton at once.

"I beg your pardon," she said, in her sweetest and most ingratiating manner, with a suggestion of the simper which used to be fas.h.i.+onable when she was a girl. "There has been an accident, I see. Are you very much hurt? Eleanor, pray do not stand like a thing of stock or stone; pray, do not be so useless and incapable."

Nell blushed and looked round helplessly.