And then poor, little Clemency, all unstrung and frightened, sank into an unconscious little heap on the floor as Gordon entered.  “What the devil?” he cried out.  “I saw the buggy smashed on the road, and that mare went down the Ford Hill road like a whirlwind.  What, Elliot, are you hurt, boy?  Clemency, Emma, what has happened?”

All the time Gordon was talking he was examining James, who was now able to speak feebly.  “The mare was frightened and threw me,” he gasped.  “I was stunned.  I am all right now.  See to Clemency!”

But Clemency was already staggering weakly to her feet.

“Oh, Uncle Tom, he isn’t killed, is he?” she sobbed.

“Killed, no,” said Gordon, “but he will be if you don’t stop crying and making a goose of yourself, Clemency.”

“We put ice on his head,” sobbed Clemency.  “He isn’t—­”

“Of course he isn’t.  He was only stunned.  That is only a flesh wound.”

“I tried to git some brandy down him, but I couldn’t,” said Emma.

“Give it to me,” said Gordon.  He poured out some brandy in a spoon, and James swallowed it.  “He will be all right now,” Gordon said.  “You won’t be such a beauty that the women will run after you for a few days, Elliot, but you’re all right.”

“I feel all right,” James said.

“It is nothing more than a little boy with a bump on his forehead,” said Gordon to Clemency.  “Now, child, stop crying, and go and bathe your eyes.  Emma, is luncheon ready?”

When both women had gone Gordon, who had been applying some ointment to James’s forehead, said in a low voice, broken by emotion, “You are all right, Elliot, but—­you did have a close call.”

“I suppose I did,” James said, laughing feebly.

He essayed to rise, but Gordon held him down.  “No, keep still,” he said.  “You must not stir to-day.  I will have your luncheon brought in.  Clemency will be only too happy to wait on you, hand and foot.”

“Poor little girl, I must have given her an awful fright,” said James.

“Well, you are not exactly the looking object to do anything else,” said Gordon laughing.

“Where is there a glass?”

“Where you won’t have it.  You won’t be scarred.  It is simply a temporary eclipse of your beauty, and Clemency will love you all the more for it.  You need not worry.  Talk about the vanity of women.  I thought you were above it, Elliot.  Now lie still.  If you get up you will be giddy.”

James lay still, smiling.  He felt very happy, and his love for Clemency seemed like a glow of pure radiance in his heart.  He lay on the office lounge all the afternoon.  He fell asleep with Clemency sitting beside holding his hand.  Gordon had gone out to finish the calls.  It was six o’clock before he drove into the yard.  James had just awakened and lay feeling a great peace and content.  Clemency was smiling down at his discolored face, as if it were the face of an angel.  The windows were open, and the distant lowing of cattle, waiting at homeward bars, the monotone of frogs, and the songs of circling swallows came in.  James felt as if he saw in a celestial vision the whole world and life, and that it was all blessed and good, that even the pain and sorrow blossomed in the end into ineffable flowers of pure delight.