Margery met his earnest, questioning gaze; the color rose to her cheeks, and she was about to make some remark, when suddenly, to her amazement, the earl leaned forward and pulled her on one side; then followed a sharp shock to the carriage. Dimly she saw a huge impending mass above her, and heard voices raised in alarm; then her senses cleared, and she saw the earl standing in the street, the footman beside him, and a crowd of people hurrying forward. “There is no damage,” cried the earl, getting into the carriage again--“at least, none to us. You are not hurt?” His tone was intensely eager. “No, no,” Margery answered, quickly; “but Lady Enid----” “Is all right. She told me so herself, with a smile, just this minute.” Margery bent over the couch. “Then she deceived you,” she said, hurriedly, looking up with blanched cheeks; “for she has fainted.” CHAPTER XVII. The clock on the mantelpiece struck eight in clear, silvery chimes; Margery paused in her walk to and fro in the boudoir, and looked at it. Three hours since they had returned, and carried Enid’s poor, fragile form to the bedroom, her face as white as death itself. The agony of Margery’s suspense was unbearable; she had been alone, listening for, yet, she scarcely knew why, dreading to hear Dr. Fothergill’s step on the stair. All thought of self was banished now; she could think only of the sweet angel-woman who had been a spirit of goodness to her, and of the look of speechless grief on the earl’s face as he carried his sister into the house. Downstairs, in another room, a man was sitting, with head bent forward as with age. It was the Earl of Court. He had returned from his sister’s couch, after placing her there, and, dropping into the chair beside the fire, had never moved during the three weary hours that passed. He heard the doctor slowly descend the stairs; yet he, like Margery, dared not approach him because of the unspeakable dread that was in his heart, and he heard the street door close with a slight shudder at the fears that possessed him. It was not till the door was gently opened that he roused himself from his trance of despair; then, raising his head, he saw Margery, pale and agitated, standing before him. “Enid wishes for you,” she said, faintly. He started to his feet in an instant. “You have seen her?” he murmured. “No,” Margery shook her head. “I will come after you; she has asked for us both, and----” She stopped--her voice failed her. The earl pressed his hands over his eyes, and followed her from the room. Lady Enid was lying back on her pillows, very pale and faint. She could not move her hand as her brother entered, but he saw the look of pleasure that illumined her face. He bent low over her, and heard her voice come only in a whisper, and that with a painful effort. “You are better, Enid?” he murmured, hoarsely. “Oh, say you are better, my darling!” “I shall be soon, Nugent,” she answered. “Have you seen Dr. Fothergill?”