Mrs. Macrae looked at the young man with all the interest in him natural to her as his hostess, and a woman full of kindly sympathies. His strong constitution was pulling him through, but there was weakness and helplessness enough left, to appeal to all the kindest part of her nature. "I am afraid I give a great deal of trouble, Mrs. Macrae," he began, in soft low rich tones--tones that would go far in his favour anywhere, she thought. "Oh, never think of the trouble, sir. We are paid for taking trouble," she answered, hastily, an innate refinement making her anxious to lessen his sense of obligation. "Ah! but you are not paid for taking it cheerfully. My servant says every one has been so kind and ready to help. You must allow me to feel obliged, and let me thank you." "I am sure you are welcome, sir. How did it happen? it was a terrible accident. If it does not tire you to talk about it all, I should like to know." "I am tired of silence," he said, pleasantly, "but if you would sit down, Mrs. Macrae, it would be very good of you. Seeing you stand gives me a feeling of fatigue." Mrs. Macrae obeyed and drew a chair near, upon which she placed herself in a most uncomfortable attitude. "There is little to tell," he said, after a moment's pause. "I went too near the edge of a disused quarry, I think, or the rains had undermined the ground I was on; at any rate, I took a step too near a part standing treacherously forward, and fell a good height, taking a quantity of loose stones and gravel with me. Then I remember nothing else." "And I dare say you lay a long time before your man found you, sir. Well, it might have been worse, they might not have found you so soon." "Oh, a young lady saw me first, and she got assistance." A young lady! Mrs. Macrae pricked up her ears at this. Why, it was going to be a romance, she thought. "A young lady!" she said, aloud; "there are none so many here, sir. Do you know her name, sir; was it one you know?" "I think I know her name," he answered, and he opened the little book lying beside him, and held it towards her. "Do you know her? where does she live?" "Grace Rivers!" exclaimed Mrs. Macrae. "Why, those young ladies have been living here for some weeks; they are here now with their aunt; they are just going away. And how did you get that book?" "She left it I suppose when she ran to call for help. My servant found it, and thought it was mine, and he brought it here." "Well, it is a providential thing some one was by, you might have been killed, sir, and died with no one there. Miss Grace Rivers. Yes, yes. It is her, though Miss Margaret's the one that is aye rambling." "When I am a little better I should like to see Miss Grace Rivers," said Sir Albert, with some hesitation, "to thank her; do you know where she lives?" "Indeed, I do not, sir, when she is at home; but she and her sister are here just now." "Here!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean in this house?"