* * * * * How it had happened hardly interested her. They had been walking in line, it appeared, on the steep hill-side, where she had seen them as she sat on the top of the cliff above the Bridge-pool. Then a hare had got up, and Lord Ellington had fired. The shot struck a rock not far in front, and of the whole charge some ten pellets had ricocheted back and hit Evelyn in the face. One eye was destroyed, the other was so injured that it had been found impossible to save it; other pellets had lodged in his face. All this--the manner of the accident--did not matter to Madge: the thing had happened, it was only wonderful that he was alive. But the operation--what it was Madge did not inquire, for it would do no good--had satisfied the surgeon. He could not have expected better results, he would not have predicted results so good. With the unhesitating obedience to duty, which is the motto and watchword of his profession, he had stopped in Lady Dover's house, waiting till he could without misgiving or fear of after-results, leave the case. All yesterday he had been in and out of the sick-room, he had slept in the dressing-room last night, and had only left an hour or two before, when he could put his patient into the skilled hands of the nurse who had come from Inverness. He was a kind, shy man, and fumbled dreadfully in his pockets as Lady Dover saw him off. "You will do me a great service, Lady Dover," he had said, "if you will convey somehow to Mrs. Dundas that her debt to me, whatever it is, is discharged. Discharged it is; to see a woman being brave is sufficient. Besides, I am on my holiday: I could not think of taking a fee. So if so absurd a notion occurs to her--ah, the motor is ready, I see, but if so absurd a thing occurs--you, my dear lady, will please exercise your tact, you will let her be under no obligation, please. A Daimler surely--beautiful machines, are they not--yes, just a little tact--I was in the house or something--I am sure you will manage it--besides, on my holiday. Yes, good-bye, good-bye. I think I have told the nurse everything, and the doctor from Inverness--dear me, his name has gone again, whom I am very pleased to have met, is, I am sure, most reliable. God bless my soul, poor Dundas, a rising painter too; well, I'm no judge. But it is pitiful, isn't it? Of course, if I am wanted again, I'll step over at once: Brora, you know, it's no trouble at all. And the poor fellow, too, who caused this accident; I'm sorry for him, too--nobody's fault. But tell him we'll pull Mr. Dundas through--oh, yes, we'll pull him through, and there's Braill's system and all afterwards. A brave woman, you know, Mrs. Dundas is; does one good, that sort of woman. Very brave. She'll need to be, poor thing, too. Good-bye, good-bye."