But Euphra was cool enough to inflict on them quite twenty minutes of waiting; by which time she was able to behave with tolerable propriety.  When she did appear at last, she was closely veiled, and stepped into the carriage without once showing her face.  But she made a very pretty apology for the delay she had occasioned; which was certainly due, seeing it had been perfectly intentional.  She made room for Hugh; he took his place beside her; and away they drove.

Euphra scarcely spoke; but begged indulgence, on the ground of her headache.  Lady Emily enjoyed the drive very much, and said a great many pleasant little nothings.

“Would you like a glass of milk?” said Mrs. Elton to her, as they passed a farm-house on the estate.

“I should —­ very much,” answered Lady Emily.

The carriage was stopped, and the servant sent to beg a glass of milk.  Euphra, who, from riding backward with a headache, had been feeling very uncomfortable for some time, wished to get out while the carriage was waiting.  Hugh jumped out, and assisted her.  She walked a little way, leaning on his arm, up to the house, where she had a glass of water; after which she said she felt better, and returned with him to the carriage.  In getting in again, either from the carelessness or the weakness occasioned by suffering, her foot slipped from the step, and she fell with a cry of alarm.  Hugh caught her as she fell; and she would not have been much injured, had not the horses started and sprung forward at the moment, so that the hind wheel of the carriage passed over her ankle.  Hugh, raising her in his arms, found she was insensible.

He laid her down upon the grass by the roadside.  Water was procured, but she showed no sign of recovering. —­ What was to be done?  Mrs. Elton thought she had better be carried to the farm-house.  Hugh judged it better to take her home at once.  To this, after a little argument, Mrs. Elton agreed.

They lifted her into the carriage, and made what arrangements they best could to allow her to recline.  Blood was flowing from her foot; and it was so much swollen that it was impossible to guess at the amount of the injury.  The foot was already twice the size of the other, in which Hugh for the first time recognised such a delicacy of form, as, to his fastidious eye and already ensnared heart, would have been perfectly enchanting, but for the agony he suffered from the injury to the other.  Yet he could not help the thought crossing his mind, that her habit of never lifting her dress was a very strange one, and that it must have had something to do with the present accident.  I cannot account for this habit, but on one of two suppositions; that of an affected delicacy, or that of the desire that the beauty of her feet should have its full power, from being rarely seen.  But it was dreadful to think how far the effects of this accident might permanently injure the beauty of one of them.