"If you can cure him, Mr. Duffham, sir, I should take it as a great favour, like, showed to myself," spoke the blacksmith. "I'd not have pounced upon him for all the world, to give him pain, in the state he's in. He looks as if he were dying." They were in the kitchen still, when Grizzel opened the door to us, the fire bigger and hotter than ever. The first thing Duffham did was to order Caromel to bed, and to have a good fire lighted in his room. But there was no hope for Nash Caromel. The Squire told us so going home that night. Duffham thought about ten days more would see the end of him. II. "And how have things gone during my short absence, Grizzel?" demanded Miss Gwinny Nave, alighting from the tax-cart the following morning, upon her return to Caromel's Farm. "Oh, pretty well," answered Grizzel, who in her heart detested Miss Gwinny and all the Naves. "The master seems weaker. He have took to his bed, and got a fire in his room." "When did he do that?" "He came down last night after you went, Miss Gwinny, and sat over this here kitchen fire for ever so long. Then he went up to bed, and I lighted him a fire and took him up some hot arrowroot with a wine glass o' brandy in it. Shivering with cold, he was." "And he has not got up this morning?" "No; and he says he does not mean to get up. 'I've taken to my bed for good, Grizzel,' he says to me this morning when I went in to light the fire again and see what he'd eat for breakfast. And I think he has, Miss Gwinny." Which information considerably lightened the doubt which was tormenting Miss Nave's mind. She wanted, oh how badly, and _was_ wanted, to remain at the Rill, being sorely needed there; but she had not seen her way clear to do it. If Nash was indeed confined to his bed, she might perhaps venture to leave him for a day or two to Grizzel. But, please don't think old Grizzel mean for keeping in what had taken place: she was only obeying orders. Duffham and the Squire had laid their heads together and then talked to Caromel; and it was agreed that for the present nothing should be disclosed. They gave their orders to Grizzel, and her master confirmed them. "And what news have you brought from the Rill, ma'am?" questioned Grizzel, who was making a custard pudding at the kitchen table. "I hope you found things better than you feared." "They could not well be worse," sighed Miss Gwinny, untying her bonnet. She had not the beauty of Charlotte. Her light complexion was like brick-dust, and her hair was straw-coloured. Not but that she was proud of her hair, wearing it in twists, with one ringlet trailing over the left shoulder. "Your mistress lies unconscious still; it is feared the brain is injured; and papa's leg is broken in two places." "Alack a-day?" cried Grizzel, lifting her hands in consternation. "Oh, but I am sorry to hear it, Miss Gwendolen! And the pretty little boy?"