Well, they sent for old Dr. Devine, who came and examined my sprain. He was very grave about it, for it was no sprain at all, but a compound fracture. After that I was ill for a long time, enduring such pain and fever with my hurt--for there were complications--that it wore me to skin and bone. Then Aline sent for a Dublin specialist, for Dr. Devine was very old, and not altogether to be trusted. Indeed, the Dublin doctor found things so bad that a bone had to be broken again and re-set. However, after months of it I was carried downstairs, hollow-eyed, and the ghost of my old self. But I had plenty of cause for gratitude, for I had very narrowly escaped being a permanent invalid, though, when I could walk about, I was a little lame, as the Dublin doctor had feared I should be for a long time, and I have never been quite my old strong self again. However, they have all been so good to me, that even in my misfortune there is sweetness. It was quite a novelty in our strong family to have someone to wait on, and I believe the boys and the twins were delighted beyond telling in carrying my footstool or fetching a shawl or pillow for me, or, when I went with them on their expeditions, carrying a little bundle of rugs and wraps with which I should be made comfortable when we sat down to picnic among the harebells, or in a sunny hay-field sloping to the river. I think it was a comfort to Aline to have me to distract her mind when Pierce went away. Once, after a long time, I said to her that I was sorry for the escapade which had ended so disastrously. "Poor little Hilda!" she said. "You have had to pay heavily for a bit of childish folly;" and she stroked my hair in her exquisite way. Yet I think that if all had ended well that day Aline would have been very angry with us, for she is so proud; and lying quietly so long, I seemed to have grown up suddenly, so that I understood how she might wince under the incidents that had seemed glorious fun to us younger ones. As she sat beside me another day, feeding me with little bits of a peach, I asked her a question which had been in my mind. "Aline," I said, "where does all this come from--the peaches and grapes, and game and wine? And how did you pay for the Dublin doctor for me?" She bent down and kissed me again. "I sold the collet," she said quietly. "Sir Rupert's collet!" I almost shrieked. "But it was your own--the one beautiful thing you had! Grandmother left it to you herself." "I had so much more right to part with it," she said, looking at the fruit she was peeling, not at me. "Why didn't you sell some of the other jewels?" I asked, almost indignantly. "Family jewels, dear, which must remain Brandon property. They are for Pierce's wife some day. Besides, I didn't care for the collet. That man's gift couldn't be of good omen." After that I said nothing more, though I cried with sheer love and gratitude, when Aline had left me, to think I had such a sister.