Betty gave a great sigh of relief.

“Then his hurts are not serious?”

“No,” said Carrington, “they are not in any sense serious.”

“May I see him?”

“He’s pretty well bandaged up, so he looks worse off than he is. 
If you’ll wait on the porch, I’ll tell him you are here,” for
Betty had dismounted.

“If you please.”

Carrington passed on into the house.  His face wore a look of somber repression.  Of course it was all right for her to come and see Norton—­they were old, old friends.  He entered the room where Norton lay.

“Miss Malroy is here,” he said shortly.

“Betty?—­bless her dear heart!” cried Charley rather weakly.  “Just toss my clothes into the closet and draw up a chair . . .  There-thank you, Bruce, that will do—­let her come along in now.”  And as Carrington quitted the room, Norton drew himself up on the pillows and faced the door.  “This is worth several beatings, Betty!” he exclaimed as she appeared on the threshold.  But much cotton and many bandages lent him a rather fearful aspect, and Betty paused with a little gasp of dismay.  “I’m lots better than I look, I expect,” said Norton.  “Couldn’t you arrange to come a little closer?” he added, laughing.

He bent to kiss the hand she gave him, but groaned with the exertion.  Then he looked up into her face and saw her eyes swimming with tears.

“What—­tears?  Tears for me, Betty?” and he was much moved.

“It’s a perfect outrage!  Who did it, Charley?” she asked.

“You sit down and I’ll tell you all about it,” said Norton happily.

“Now tell me, Charley!” when she had seated her. self.

“Who fetched you, Betty—­old Tom?”

“No, I came alone.”

“Well, it’s mighty kind of you.  I’ll be all right in a day or so.  What did you hear?—­that I’d been attacked and half-killed?”

“Yes—­and robbed.”

“There were three of the scoundrels.  They made me climb out of the saddle, and as I was unarmed they did as they pleased with me, which was to stamp me flat in the road—­”

“Charley!”

“I might almost be inclined to think they were friends of yours, Betty—­or at least friends of friends of yours.”

“What do you mean, Charley—­friends of mine?”

“Well, you see they started in by stipulating that I should keep away from Belle Plain, and the terms they proposed being on the face of them preposterous, trouble quickly ensued—­trouble for me, you understand.  But never mind, dear, the next man who undertakes to grab my horse by the bit won’t get off quite so easy.”

“Why should any one care whether you come to Belle Plain or not?”

“I wonder if my amiable friend, Tom, could have arranged this little affair; it’s sort of like old Tom to move in the dark, isn’t it?”

“He couldn’t—­he wouldn’t have done it, Charley!” but she looked troubled, not too sure of this.