“Fallen upon one of his oldest friends, who will take care of him, and well out of the way of the croquet traps.  Where’s my Lady?  I thought you were with her.”

“She disappeared while I was talking to that good Miss Penwell!  You must be pleased now, Alick, you see she is really going to see about going to Scotland.”

“I should be better pleased if she had not left that poor old man alone till nine o’clock.”

“She says that when he has his man Saunders to read to him—­”

“Don’t tell me what she says; I have enough of that at first hand.”

He broke off with a start.  The terrace was prolonged into a walk beyond the screen of evergreens that shut in the main lawn, and, becoming a shrubbery path, led to a smooth glade, on whose turf preparations had been made for a second field of croquet, in case there should have been too many players for the principal arena.  This, however, had not been wanted, and no one was visible except a lady and gentleman on a seat under a tree about half-way down on the opposite side of the glade.  The lady was in blue and white; the gentleman would hardly have been recognised by Rachel but for the start and thrill of her husband’s arm, and the flush of colour on his usually pale cheek, but, ere he could speak or move, the lady sprang up, and came hastening towards them diagonally across the grass.  Rachel saw the danger, and made a warning outcry, “Bessie, the hoop!” but it was too late, she had tripped over it, and fell prone, and entirely unable to save herself.  She was much nearer to them than to her late companion, and was struggling to disengage herself when Alick reached her, lifted her up, and placed her on her feet, supporting her as she clung fast to him, while he asked if she were hurt.

“No, no,” she cried.  “Don’t let him come; don’t let him call any one, don’t,” she reiterated, as Mr. Carleton hovered near, evidently much terrified, but not venturing to approach.

Alick helped her to another garden chair that stood near.  She had been entangled in her dress, which had been much torn by her attempt to rise, and hung in a festoon, impeding her, and she moved with difficulty, breathing heavily when she was first seated.

“I don’t know if I have not twisted myself a little,” she said, in answer to their anxious questions, “but it will go off.  Rachel, how scared you look!”

“Don’t laugh,” exclaimed Rachel, in dread of hysterics, and she plunged her hand into Alick’s pocket for a scent-bottle, which he had put there by way of precaution for her, and, while applying it, said, in her full, sedate voice, keeping it as steady as she could, “Shall I drive you home?  Alick can walk home with his uncle when he is ready.”

“Home!  Thank you, Rachel, pray do.  Not that I am hurt,” she added in her natural voice, “only these rags would tell tales, and there would be an intolerable fuss.”

“Then I will bring the carriage round to the road there,” said Alick.  “I told Joe to be in readiness, and you need not go back to the house.”