Catching up an end of the unfortunate
riding-habit he twisted it closely about the helplessly exposed little
feet--an act of delicacy which received a faint glance of grateful
recognition before she lapsed into utter unconsciousness. Gathering
her into his arms he carried her as he might have carried a child to
the shelter of his own house. But here a fresh dilemma presented
itself. Not a soul was in the house. His father had not yet returned
from market, his mother and the servant were absent, he knew not
where. Placing her on a couch he bathed with awkwardly gentle fingers
the wound in her head, and dared even to wipe away a few drops of
blood from the little pallid face. Still the white lids lay motionless
over the blue eyes, and the girlish form was unmoved by a breath. He
stood anxiously looking down at her, wondering what his mother would
do in his place, and feeling in every fibre a man's natural
helplessness in the presence of a suffering woman. "What can I do for
you?" he asked, as she at last opened her eyes, and gazed
half-frightened at her strange surroundings.
"Thank you, I believe I am quite comfortable, except--except for the
dreadful pain.
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