It was such thoughts as these--thoughts which caused the tears to rush in torrents down her pale cheeks--that filled Honor’s breast to overflowing, leaving no room in it for any recollection either of her husband’s mental anxiety or of his probable danger should the blow, which in a moment of ungovernable fury he had dealt her father, prove a fatal one. * * * * * Meantime--and while Honor, seated on a fallen tree, was receiving, without, it is to be feared, greatly valuing them, her husband’s well-intended consolations--Dr. Kempshall had pronounced his opinion on Colonel Norcott’s state, and had superintended that unfortunate gentleman’s removal from Danescourt. As a matter of course he had delivered his judgment both with caution and oracularly, refraining even, till such time as the patient could speak for himself, to express any decided opinion regarding the origin of the accident. To Lord Guernsey, who was full of curiosity and interest on the subject, and who questioned him very closely as to whether he thought it probable that an assault had been committed, Dr. Kempshall replied that appearances were decidedly in favour of such a proposition; at the same time, however, there was nothing in the nature of the injury to entirely render nugatory the idea that Colonel Norcott _might_ have, unintentionally of course, and through the medium of a fall, cut his head open in the frightful manner which his lordship had just witnessed. “Frightful indeed!” said Lord Guernsey; “upon my soul and honour, I shall wonder if the man gets over it, and how such an _accident_ could have happened is wonderful to me. You think there’s no danger though, do you, doctor, in taking him to the Bell? It isn’t a hundred yards farther than it is to my house, and I own, if it comes to the same thing, I should prefer not having Colonel Norcott laid up at Danescourt. There is his wife, poor woman, to be telegraphed for (Arthur Vavasour says she is at Ryde), and Lady Guernsey hasn’t the pleasure of knowing Mrs. Norcott; and then Mr. Baker--Certainly, doctor, if it can be managed,” continued the good-natured nobleman, “and without the slightest risk--mind that--to the poor fellow himself, I should greatly prefer his being taken to the Bell.” And to the Bell--a very comfortable, old-fashioned inn, containing many more big bedrooms, double and single, than were ever likely to be required, and an “assembly-room,” of which much varied use was made at all seasons of the year, for public dinners, balls, lectures, itinerant minstrels, and all and every of the various purposes to which such apartments have time out of mind in county towns been put--the Colonel was accordingly taken.