Gyda was quite unable to lift her, light as the burden would have been; but what she could she was prompt and skilful to do. She brought cushions to put under Wych Hazel's head, applied cold water and hartshorn; for Gyda was too much in request as a village nurse and doctor to be unsupplied with simple remedies. With tender care she used what she had, till the girl opened her eyes and found Gyda's brown face hovering over her. Even then the old woman said not a word. She waited till Wych Hazel's senses were clear, and the young lady had roused herself up to a sitting position on the floor. Gyda's eyes were too keen not to see that the mind was more disturbed than the body. 'My little lady,' she said wistfully, 'what ails thee?' Hazel passed her hands over her face, and tried to collect her thoughts. 'I am a great deal of trouble,'—she said slowly; for the touch of the wet hair was suggestive, and it seemed to her just then that she was nothing but trouble to anybody. 'And what is it that is troubling _thee?_' said Gyda, stooping down with her hand on Wych Hazel's shoulder, the wrinkled, sweet old face looking earnestly for the answer. 'How can you set things right?' said Hazel, with her usual inroad to the midst of the case. 'How can you set them right, when you do not know where they are wrong?' 'Will my lady tell me what is wrong?' said the old woman, probably judging this statement of the position too vague to be acted upon. 'But come and sit down, and see the fire, and get comfortable; and tell me; and then we'll know.' Wych Hazel rose and came to the fire as she was bid, and looked at it, seeing nothing; but her next words touched another point. 'Why do such things come upon people?' she said. The old Norsewoman stood beside her, watching with all the wisdom of her loving, wise heart to see where the hurt was and what the medicine must be. She put her hand again upon Wych Hazel's shoulder as she looked. 'What has come?' she said. 'It's not—my lad?' she added, with evidently a sudden startle of apprehension. 'He is away, you know,' said Hazel, with an immediate reserve of voice. 'I know nothing of him.' 'What has come to my lad's lady?' A quick spasm of pain passed over the face she was watching. 'Hush!' the girl said under her breadth. 'I am not that.' 'Then something wants to be set right,' said the old woman quietly. 'What is it, dear? Tell me, and the Lord will shew us how to do.' 'If _He_ cared, he would have hindered,' said Hazel drearily. 'He doesn't hinder, sometimes, to shew us that he cares,' said Gyda. 'You may not question his love, dear; you'll be sure to get wrong if you do.' And then bending nearer, so as to look close in the girl's face, with her little black eyes shining both keen and tender, she repeated, 'My lad's lady, what is it? I am his servant, and so I am her servant.'