_Athenaeum_, and watching the pinched, pallid face for some sign of
returning life. It came at last, in a flutter of the eyelids, a
long-drawn, gasping breath. The Greek scholar rushed for whisky--brandy
he esteemed as a mere adjunct of channel boats--lifted her head and held
the glass to her lips. The blood had come back to her face in a rush of
carnation; she drank--choked--drank--he laid her head down and her eyes
opened. They were large, clear grey eyes--very bewildered-looking just
now--but they and the clear red tint in cheeks and lips transformed the
face.

"Good gracious," said he, "she's pretty! Pretty? she's beautiful!"

She was. That such beauty should so easily have hidden itself behind a
green-tinted mask, with sunken eyelid, seemed a miracle to the
ingenuous bookworm.

"You're better now," said he with feverish banality. "Give me your
hands--so--now can--yes, that's right--here, this chair is the only
comfortable one----"

She sank into the chair, and waved away the more whisky which he eagerly
proffered. He stood looking at her with respectful solicitude.

After a few moments she stretched her arms like a sleepy child, yawned,
and then suddenly broke into laughter. It had a strange sound. No one
had laughed in that house since the wet night when Mr Brent took
possession of it, and he had never been able to bring himself to believe
that any one had ever laughed there before.

Then he remembered having heard that women have hysterical fits as well
as fainting fits, and he said eagerly: "Oh don't! It's all right--you
were faint--the heat or something----"

"Did I faint?" she asked with interest. "I never fainted before.
But--oh--yes--I remember. It was rather horrible. The quarry tumbled
down almost on me, and I just stopped short--in time--and I came round
by this road because the other's stopped up, and I was so glad when I
saw the house. Thank you so much; it must have been an awful bother. I
think I had better start soon----"

"No, you don't; you're not fit to ride alone yet," said he to himself.
Aloud he said: "You said something about a puncture--when you are better
I'll mend it. And, look here--have you had any lunch?"

"No," said she.

"Then--if you'll allow me." He left the room, and presently returned
with the tray set for his own lunch; then he fetched from the larder
everything he could lay hands on: half a cold chicken, some cold meat
pudding, a pot of jam, bottled beer. He set the