“I feel rather like what the boys used to call a ‘jolly duffer,’” he said, slowly. “I can’t think what made me so stupid; I don’t usually fall about in this way. I wonder how long I was insensible--and I have never thanked you for helping me.” Stuart was gradually recovering himself, and woke to the fact that this was a stranger. “I beg your pardon.” “It is granted, Cousin Stuart.” Stuart looked mystified, and then said, suddenly putting out his left hand: “You are Douglas Gerant; I am very glad to see you.” Sir Douglas grasped the hand. “Thanks, my lad,” he said, quietly; then, looking round: “Here is Murray. Now sit quiet, and don’t speak, and we’ll settle you in a trice.” Stuart watched his cousin curiously as he prepared the bandages and improvised some splints; he scarcely felt the long, white fingers as they moved over his wounded arm, and winced only as the bones clicked together. But he grew fainter as the bandages were wound round; and, as the operation was finished, Sir Douglas, without a word, held the brandy to his lips again and forced him to drink some. “You have pluck, Stuart,” he said, quietly. “You are of the stuff to make a man. Now, if you take my advice, you will go to your room and rest. I fancy that arm will trouble you rather to-night; so try to get some sleep now.” “My head feels rather queer, I confess,” Stuart responded; and he gladly let his cousin draw his hand through his arm and lead him through the hall to the stairs. Mrs. Crosbie was sailing down as they approached. “Stuart,” she exclaimed, in genuine dismay, “what is the matter?” “He has fallen and broken his arm,” Sir Douglas answered, quietly. “I am taking him to his room; it will be wiser to let him pass, Cousin Constance, as he has had a nasty touch on the head.” “Arm broken!” cried Mrs. Crosbie, in alarm. “But it must be set! I will send for Dr. Metcalf at once!” “You can send for the doctor, if you like,” Sir Douglas remarked, as he drew Stuart up the stairs; “but his arm is already set. I have had considerable experience in such cases, and I can assure you it is all right.” Stuart smiled faintly at his mother, and she followed him up the stairs, a little annoyed, a little anxious, and, oddly enough, a little glad--annoyed because Sir Douglas had taken so much upon himself; anxious for her son, whom she loved better than anything on earth; and glad, because she saw in this illness a chance of bringing about the marriage between Vane and Stuart, which she so much desired. Sir Douglas left the mother and son together when he had ensconced his patient comfortably in a large chair; and Mrs. Crosbie busied herself with many little offices about the room, quitting the apartment only when she saw Stuart’s eyes close in slumber. She met Vane on the landing, and, with an affectionate glance, drew the girl’s hand through her arm.