Lady Jemima looked strangely at me for a moment, and then turned and fled swiftly to her own room. Mrs. Judith opened the door in a few minutes to whisper to me that my Lady was already quieter, and seemed soothed and comforted by her cousin's presence, and to ask me to go down and see that some supper was prepared for my Lord, in case of his coming home, which I did. I found Dorothy had anticipated me, however, for she had made everything ready. And not only that, but she had some dainty broth keeping hot by the kitchen fire, which she begged me eat a part of, and carry the rest up to Mrs. Judith. "I had not thought of wanting anything to eat, Dorothy," said I. "No, I dare say not, nor Mrs. Judith neither," answered Dorothy, dryly. "You're not the kind that always thinks of your own insides, whatever happens; so much the more need that others should think for you." I would not seem ungrateful for the good soul's care, so I drank a cup of broth, and indeed it did me a great deal of good. I had hardly got up-stairs again when I heard a clatter of horses' hoofs, and my Lord's voice above the storm, directing Roger and Will about the horses. Mrs. Corbet at the same moment opened the door. "Go you down to meet my Lord, dear heart!" said she. "Tell him Elizabeth is going on well, but do not let him come up. Everything depends on quietness, just now!" I needed no second bidding, but ran down-stairs, and met my Lord at the door. He was coming in, after his usual jolly, careless fashion, evidently merry, yet not much the worse—but that he never is—for the wine he had drank at supper. He checked his whistle on seeing me. "What, Margaret! What keeps you up so late?" Then, as I held up a warning finger, he seemed to divine the state of the case. "My Lady! Is she—?" "She is in a way to do well, I trust and believe!" said I. "But she has been very ill, and Mrs. Corbet says all depends on quietness." "The surgeon is here, I suppose?" said he, after a minute. I told him how it was—that Harry had gone for him at first and did not return. And that, growing alarmed, Mrs. Judith had sent for Mrs. Corbet, about an hour ago. "Aye, that was well!" said he. "But who went for her? I would have said there was not a wench about the place who would have gone down to Corby-End to-night on any errand whatever; and David is a greater coward than any of them." "I went myself," said I. "You!" exclaimed my Lord, putting his hand on my shoulder, and holding me off to look at me. "Meg! You never went down to Corby-End alone, this wild night!" "Nay!" I answered. "I had Jacky the knife-boy for protector. We had a rough walk, but we met with no worse misadventure than slipping into the brook two or three times, and putting out our lanthorn. And I rode back and left Jacky to be petted by the maids down there!"