* * * * *

When I awoke to consciousness I found myself lying on a sofa in a small sitting-room; but no one was bending tenderly over me—­not even a mother’s face met my eyes—­but the gossip of two women servants grated painfully on my ear.

“What under the sun possessed Miss Amy to go and cut up such a caper as that!” said one of them, “All the mischief she’s done this day won’t be done away with for weeks to come.”

“No, indeed!” rejoined the other, “that young officer is a fixture here for six weeks at least.  Rome wasn’t built in a day, nor are broken legs healed in ten minutes—­and such a beauty as he is, too!  It’s shameful to think of!”

“If she’d only let him alone, he’d done well enough—­but she must go and jump right under the horses’ feet, so that, of course, he had to spring out to prevent her being killed, and that broke his leg, while she wasn’t hurt a bit.  Speaking of beauties, if Miss Amy could only have seen herself then!—­spotted with mud from head to foot, and her hair flying in all directions!”

On hearing that I was not hurt, I sprang from the sofa and rushed to the glass, where I encountered the reflection of a most pitiable-looking figure.  Even my face was daubed with mud and dirt, and I looked like a veritable fright.  Shame, mortification, and sorrow for my heedless conduct almost overwhelmed me.  In the selfish desire to signalize myself, I had hazarded the life of a fellow-being, and brought upon him weeks of suffering which no act of mine could now alleviate.  The tears rolled down my cheeks; but having ascertained that my parents had not yet returned, I cut short the gossip of the servants, and ordering them to bring me some water, I arranged my disordered dress for a visit to the sufferer’s apartment.

Doctor Irwin had been instantly sent for; and when I entered the room, he was seated by his patient’s bedside, while Major Arlington lay with closed eyes and pallid features in a kind of sleep or stupor.

“Miss Amy,” whispered the doctor, “this is a sad business—­and your parents from home, too.  What will be their feelings on their return?”

I glanced at the motionless figure of the young officer, and too much ashamed to reply, hung my head in silence.

“Are you sure that you were not at all hurt, my dear child?” he continued in a kind tone; “What a very wild proceeding it was to throw yourself into the melee!  If two men could not manage the horses, could you suppose that your strength would be sufficient.  You should have reasoned with yourself before taking such a step, for you see the unfortunate effects of it.”