“Most certainly not,” Henry answered, with vigour; “I hate the sight of hospital nurses—they always remind me of Haslar, where I was laid up with jaundice. There are two doctors and this good lady taking care of me here, and if that isn’t enough for me, nothing will be.” “Well, dear, we will see how you get on,” said his mother doubtfully. Then she kissed him and went; but the doctor stopped behind, and having taken his patient’s temperature, ordered him another sleeping draught. So soon as Lady Graves had left the parlour, Joan followed her example, murmuring with truth that she felt a little faint. “What a beautiful girl, father!” said Emma to Mr. Levinger. “Who is she? Somebody said the other day that there was a mystery about her.” “How on earth should I know?” he answered. “She is Mrs. Gillingwater’s niece and I believe that her parents are dead; that is the only mystery I ever heard.” “I think that there must be something odd, all the same,” said Emma. “If you notice, her manners are quite different from those of most village girls, and she speaks almost like a lady.” “Been educated above her station in life, I fancy,” her father answered snappishly. “That is the way girls of this kind are ruined, and taught to believe that nothing in their own surroundings is good enough for them. Anyhow, she has led poor Graves into this mess, for which I shall not forgive her in a hurry.” “At least she did her best to save him, and at great risk to herself,” said Emma gently. “I don’t see what more she could have done.” “That’s woman’s logic all over,” replied the father. “First get a man who is worth two of you into some terrible scrape, physical or otherwise, and then do your ‘best to save him,’ and pose as a heroine. It would be kinder to leave him alone altogether in nine cases out of ten, only then it is impossible to play the guardian angel, as every woman loves to do. Just to gratify her whim—for that is the plain English of it—this girl sends poor Graves up that tower; and because, when he falls off it, she tries to throw her arms round him, everybody talks of her wonderful courage. Bother her and her courage! The net result is that he will never be the same man again.” Her father spoke with so much suppressed energy that Emma looked at him in astonishment, for of late years, at any rate, he had been accustomed to act calmly and to speak temperately. “Is Captain Graves’s case so serious?” she asked. “From what young Salter tells me I gather that it is about as bad as it can be of its kind. He has fractured his leg in a very awkward place, there is some haemorrhage, and he lay exposed for nearly five hours, and had to be carried several miles.” “What will happen to him, then?” asked Emma in alarm. “I thought that the worst of it was over.”