"No, no," said the stranger, "that would never do. There must be no avoidable delay." He stopped a moment. "I think I have it!" he exclaimed, "and here comes Mr Grey. For his sake, too, it is best to avoid any gossip, as he is so sensitive. I will go and speak to him for a moment;" and he was moving away, when he turned towards me again. "Don't misunderstand him or them," he said quickly. "They are the kindest-hearted people in the world." Then for two or three minutes Moore and I were left alone. "I wonder what they are going to do," I said anxiously, for I saw that the two were talking together eagerly. "O Moore, I shall never, never for--" "Forgive me?" said the boy, trying to smile, though he winced with pain as he did so. "Well, I suppose I must bear it." "Nonsense?" I replied indignantly. "I was only going to say that I shall never forget this evening, not if I live to be a hundred. But I would not be so mean and cruel as to talk of never forgiving, when you are already so punished." By this time Mr Grey and the stranger were close to us, the former looking, if possible, more gloomy and harassed than usual; by which term must be understood, so far as I am concerned, the expression of his face in church! His companion was still talking quickly, but I only heard the elder man's reply. "Well, yes," were his words. "I suppose it is the best thing to do. The servants would make a wild story of it. The flyman--"--and here I think I detected a grim smile--"would probably give out that we set man-traps along the wall." "We have thought of a plan, Miss--" began the young man, then stopped suddenly, realising that he had not heard our name. "We have thought of a plan which will obviate all that you are afraid of." "The only objection to it," interrupted Mr Grey, turning to him, "being that _you_ will lose your train." "That is really of no consequence," was the reply. "I can wire to my people from the station when to expect me." Mr Grey's interruption annoyed me. I was all on tenter-hooks to hear the "plan," and I could see that the stranger sympathised with my impatience. "It is this," he explained. "A fly is now waiting for me to take me to the station. Mr Grey and I will carry your brother outside, as carefully as possible. He must be carried somewhere, and a little bit down the road will be scarcely farther than back to the house. Then, as I pass in the fly, you must call out to me for help. I shall stop, and between us we will lift him in, and I will take you both home--to the Manor-house, I think you called it? So the driver will have nothing to tell except that his fare behaved with ordinary humanity," and here he smiled, nor was _his_ smile a grim one. "And on the way," he went on, "you must give me the doctor's address if you know it, so that I may send him as I pass through the village."