The father was totally helpless and overcome. “My girl, my child!” he was repeating, with white lips, drawing her into his arms. “I do not think she is hurt, sir,” said Edgar, whose impressionable heart was touched. “Let us put her into my dogcart, and my groom will drive her gently home.” “Yes, yes, that is best,” said Alice. “Papa, you hurt me; but, oh! I am not injured--I am only aching and shaken--and, oh, papa!----” “What is it?” cried Edgar, seeing her anxious glance round. “Jeanie!” The name sounded like a cry; and then, all at once, the whole party were aware of Arthur Arden making his way towards the nearest cottage with something in his arms. Even Mr. Pimpernel grew silent in his anxiety. Alice shivered violently, and fell back upon Edgar, who put out his arm to support her with a sudden spasm of pain and terror in his heart. No moan nor cry came from the thing in Arthur Arden’s arms. Was it Jeanie who lay thus, in a heap, silent, undistinguishable? Alice shuddered more and more, and fell down on her knees, and began to cry; while old Pimpernel, in his excitement, rose and said--“If anything has happened to her, I will shoot those d--d horses, and that d--d fool. But for him, curse him, it would never have happened.” Edgar felt as if he had been suddenly turned to stone. What was Jeanie to him that her peril should so move him? It was the horror of it, done as it were before his eyes. And then her grandmother---- While Alice wept and her father stormed, Edgar felt his very heart grow sick. “Take her home,” he said peremptorily to Mr. Pimpernel, who, stilled in his excitement by any sudden voice of authority, humbly obeyed. Between them they lifted Alice, still weeping and moaning, into the dogcart, and slowly and steadily she was driven home to the Red House. Edgar drew a long breath of relief when she was gone; and then he turned with the silent speed of excitement after Arthur Arden to the cottage door.