‘Dear Barbie disturbed him whilst he was mowing,’ she said, ‘and he let the scythe slip, and so got hurt.’ She was readily consoled when assured that the old gentleman lay in no immediate danger. He must, however, be kept quiet, and not allowed to leave his bed for some time. Then Eve bounded away, light as a roe. The reaction set in at once. She was like a cork in water, that can only be kept depressed by force; remove the pressure and the cork leaps to the surface again. Such was her nature. She could not help it. ‘Mr. Jasper,’ said the surgeon, ‘I have never gone over this property. If you have a spare hour and would do me a favour, I should like to look about me. The quality of the land is good?’ ‘Excellent.’ ‘Is there anywhere a map of the property that I could run my eye over?’ ‘In the study.’ ‘What about the shooting, now?’ ‘It is not preserved. If it were it would be good, the cover is so fine.’ ‘And there seems to be a good deal of timber.’ After about an hour Mr. Coyshe rode away. ‘Some men are Cyclopses, as far as their own interests are concerned,’ said he to himself; ‘they carry but a single eye. I invariably use two.’ In the evening, when Barbara came to her sister’s room to tell her that she intended to sit up during the night with her father, she said: ‘Mr. Jasper is very kind. He insists on taking half the watch, he will relieve me at two o’clock. What is the matter with you, Eve?’ ‘I can see nothing, Barbie, but it is there still.’ ‘What is?’ ‘That red mark. I have been rubbing, and washing, and it burns like fire.’ ‘I can see, my dear Eve, that where you have rubbed your pretty white delicate skin, you have made it red.’ ‘I have rubbed it in. I feel it. I cannot get the feel away. It stains me. It hurts me. It burns me.’ CHAPTER XXIII. A BUNCH OF ROSES.