Why could not she slip away and fetch someone
to her aid?

Nora had clutched a very tight hold of Kitty's hand when first the
little girl had proposed to fetch her mother, but now, in the kind of
torpor of pain into which she had sunk, she relaxed the firm grip, and
Kitty found that by a very gentle movement she could release her hand
altogether.

She did so, and rose slowly to her feet.

Nora felt the movement and spoke.

"Kitty."

"Yes."

"You're not going away?"

"I'm only looking to see if there's anyone coming."

"Well, don't go away."

Nora's voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper, and Kitty's terrors and her
certain fears that Nora was about to die became greater than ever.

She looked all around her, to right and left, before and behind.

No one was in sight. Not even the voice of a living creature broke the
stillness. The birds were silent, the creatures of the wood seemed to be
all asleep, the other members of the picnic had evidently wandered far
afield; but, hark, what sound was that? Oh, joy! Who was this coming
swiftly through the trees? Kitty's heart gave a bound of rapture, and
then, forgetting all Nora's injunctions to keep by her side, she flew
with lightning speed towards the figure of a horseman who was riding
through the wood.

The man on horseback was Squire Lorrimer himself.

He had promised to join the children in time for dinner, but had not
turned up. It was not his custom, however, on any occasion to disappoint
his young people, and although late in the day he was now hastening to
the scene of revelry.

Kitty's frantic speed in his direction by no means surprised him.

"Well, little woman," he said, pulling up the mare as he spoke. "Shall I
give you a mount on Black Bessy's back? and where are all the others? I
expected quite a swarm of you to rush forth. Where is Molly, and where
is Nora, and where is the beautiful Annie Forest, whom everybody seems
to rave about, and mother and Jane Macalister? Are they all hiding and
ready to rush out upon me with wild whoops?"

Kitty panted visibly before she replied.

"No, father, it isn't that," she said. "I and Nora are alone, I--get
down please, father, won't you?"

"Why, what's the matter with you child?" The Squire hastily dismounted.
"Are you hurt, Kit? What a red, excited face."

"No, 'tisn't me, it's Nora. She fell; I think she'll die. It was my
fault. The beech tree had a rotten bough, and I crept out on it, as I
didn't wis