But great was the flurry and distress. Poor Lady Sundon prepared to set out instantly for the scene of the accident, to nurse her son, should she find him alive to be nursed by her. The Misses Sundon, who had been wont to utter, as loudly as the plaintiveness of their reproaches would permit, charges of undue preference on the part of Sir Peter for his boy over his girls, and of gross indulgence and spoiling on the part of the boy’s mother, were sufficiently kindly women, in spite of their follies, to be cut up by their half-brother’s danger, and to forget altogether, in their roused and alarmed affection, that they had insisted on electing themselves the young master’s rivals. Lyddy Sundon, who was the more energetic of the sisters, would not hear of any other arrangement than that she should accompany Lady Sundon in her journey, and remain with her, to assist in nursing the little lad. Lady Sundon, whose rosy, elderly face was purple with subdued excitement, while she could not keep the moisture out of her eyes by the repeated furtive movement of her hand across her face, did not fail to be touched by the token of respect and regard. “I’m sure it’s very good of you, Lyddy,” the mother said, with all her heart. “I ain’t likely to forget it, no, nor your father neither; and I trust my Ned will remember it when he is a man, for, by God’s mercy, he may live to see us out yet.” Nancy Sundon undertook to devote herself, in his wife’s absence, to the care of Sir Peter, naturally suffering more than ever, though he was driven for the moment to forget his own sufferings. “But our trouble, which may end well, for all that is come and gone, please God, is not your trouble, Lady Bell, so go to your masquerade yourself, my dear,” the good-natured woman told Lady Bell at parting. “I’ll take ‘The Cries of London’ to amuse Neddy, as you wish, and thank you heartily for the thought. But I am sure it would vex any child of mine on his bed, as it would vex me, if he could know that he was keeping you, who have nothing to do with him, poor boy, save in your good will, from a grand treat. Go when it is your day, and enjoy yourself with the best, Lady Bell, bless you! We don’t grudge you the enjoyment, though we have come to grief.” “Sure, you don’t; but never think of me, my dear Lady Sundon; may a blessing and the best of luck go with you. I hope and pray that you will find your boy a great deal better than you expect, and that we shall all have such a merry meeting again that the finest masquerade will be thrown into the shade.” And Lady Bell fully meant to give up the masquerade. But scarcely had Lady Sundon and Lyddy set out, when another deliberate post letter arrived in Cleveland Court, with the cheering tidings that the sufferer was doing well, and was likely to recover without sustaining any material and permanent injury from his fall.