That morning, as he rested his chin on his hands that clasped the end of
his shovel, such thoughts swelled the pride in his heart, and his work
was left undone. The sun came suddenly from behind the peak and flooded
the valley with light; still Rupert stood looking over the fields. In
the distance towards the left he caught sight of a horse and buggy
coming at a good pace along the new country road. He watched it drawing
nearer. A lady was driving. Her horse was on its mettle this morning and
the reins were tight. They were at that ugly place where the road
crosses the canal--he was to repair it that morning--He awoke from his
dreaming with a start, but too late; the horse shied, a wheel went into
the ugly hole, and the occupant was pitched into the dry bottom of the
canal. Rupert ran down the road shouting "whoa" to the horse which
galloped past him. The lady scrambled up before Rupert reached her.
"Are you hurt?" he inquired.
"No--no, sir," she managed to say. She was pale and trembling. "Can you
catch my horse? I think he will stop at that barn."
"I'll get your horse, never fear; just so you're not hurt. Let me help
you out of the ditch."
She held out a gloved hand and he assisted her up the bank. She was just
a girl, and he could have carried her home, had it been necessary.
"Thank you, sir, but could you get my horse, please? There, he is
stopping at that house."
"That is where I live. I'll bring him to you, if you will wait."
"Oh, thanks; but I can walk that far. The fall has just shaken me up a
little. I shall soon get over it."
They walked down the road to the gate.
"You must come in and rest," said he, "and I'll take care of your
horse." She remonstrated, but he insisted, and brought her into the
kitchen where his mother was busy with breakfast. Rupert explained, and
his mother instantly became solicitous. She drew a rocking chair up to
the fire and with gentle force seated the stranger, continuously asking
questions and exclaiming, "Too bad, too bad."
Rupert readily caught the runaway animal, and, leading him into the
yard, fastened and fed him.
"Take off your hat, Miss," said Mrs. Ames, "your head'll feel easier. I
know it must ache with such a knock as that. I believe you're cold, too.
Put your feet on the hearth--or here, I'll open the oven door--there!
You must take a cup of coffee with us. It'll warm you. You haven't had
breakfast yet, I dare say."
The stranger thanked her and leaned back in the chair quite content. The
fall had really shaken her severely and a pain shot, now and then, into
her head. Rupert foolishly fidgeted about outside before he could make
up his mind to come in. Nina now made her appearance. The coffee was
poured out and the stranger was invited to sit up. Once, twice, Mrs.
Ames spoke to her, but she sat perfectly still. Her face was pale, her
eyes half closed.
"What's the matter, Miss?" asked the mother, looking into the girl's
face.
"Mother, I believe she has fainted," said Nina.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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