THE ARGOSY.

FEBRUARY, 1891.

THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND.

CHAPTER V.

At rose cottage.

On regaining my senses I found myself in a cozy little bed in a cozy little room, with an old gentleman sitting by my side gently chafing one of my hands—­a gentleman with white hair and a white moustache, with a ruddy face and a smile that made me all in love with him at first sight.

“Did I not say that she would do famously in a little while?” he cried, in a cheery voice that it did one good to listen to.  “I believe the Poppetina has only been hoaxing us all this time:  pretending to be half-drowned just to find out whether anyone would make a fuss about her.  Is not that the truth, little one?”

“If you please, sir, where am I?  And are you a doctor?” I asked, faintly.

“I am not a doctor, either of medicine or law,” answered the white-haired gentleman.  “I am Major Strickland, and this place is Rose Cottage—­the magnificent mansion which I call my own.  But you had better not talk, my dear—­at least not just yet:  not till the doctor himself has seen you.”

“But how did I get here?” I pleaded.  “Do tell me that, please.”

“Simply thus.  My nephew Geordie was out mooning on the bridge when he heard a cry for help.  Next minute he saw you and your boat go over the weir.  He rushed down to the quiet water at the foot of the falls, plunged in, and fished you out before you had time to get more than half-drowned.  My housekeeper, Deborah, put you to bed, and here you are.  But I am afraid that you have hurt yourself among those ugly stones that line the weir; so Geordie has gone off for the doctor, and we shall soon know how you really are.  One question I must ask you, in order that I may send word to your friends.  What is your name? and where do you live?”

Before I could reply, the village doctor came bounding up the stairs three at a time.  Five minutes sufficed him for my case.  A good night’s rest and a bottle of his mixture were all that was required.  A few hours would see me as well as ever.  Then he went.

“And now for the name and address, Poppetina,” said the smiling Major.  “We must send word to papa and mamma without a moment’s delay.”

“I have neither papa nor mamma,” I answered.  “My name is Janet Hope, and I come from Deepley Walls.”

“From Deepley Walls!” exclaimed the Major.  “I thought I knew everybody under Lady Chillington’s roof, but I never heard of you before to-night, my dear.”

Then I told him that I had been only two days with Lady Chillington, and that all of my previous life that I could remember had been spent at Park Hill Seminary.