"You mean," he cried, "you mean that?--" Then his voice broke off sharply, and his forehead wrinkled in dismay. "_What's that_? That mark on your arm. _Blood_?" He pointed. I looked, and sure enough a dull red patch was spreading over the muslin sleeve of my dress. The blow had evidently cut the skin, and this was the result. I felt dreadfully sorry for myself, and rather faint, and altogether considerably worse than I had done before, as a result of beholding these visible signs of injury. So, I was content to see, did Mr Maplestone himself. He really looked horribly worried and distressed, and kept glancing at me with anxious eyes, as if every moment he expected me to collapse. But he never offered his arm! He came with me as far as the gate, and then held out his hand in farewell. It would have been churlish to refuse, so I put my own hand in his just for a moment. "Don't shake it, please," I said. "It hurts." And then, because it _did_ seem such an odd thing to say, I smiled again, a feeble watery smile. He dropped my hand like a hot coal, and fled. I limped into the house and told Charmion all about it, and cried quarts. I was mottled all over, black and blue. CHAPTER TEN. MRS MERRIVALE CONFESSES. Next morning a groom came over with kind inquiries from the Hall. Mr and Mrs Maplestone were anxious to hear if Miss Wastneys had recovered from the shock of yesterday. Miss Wastneys returned thanks for kind inquiries. She was suffering a good deal of pain, but her injuries were not serious. Recovered, indeed! When I was a mass of bruises and aches, to say nothing of jumpy nerves. I was not inclined to make light of my injuries to Mr Robert Maplestone. Later on the General's valet made his appearance. "General Underwood was anxious to hear how Miss Wastneys was this morning. He was distressed to hear that she had been hurt." That was more tactful! Moreover, on receiving the bulletin, the man informed our maid that the old gentleman was rarely upset because he had been rude to the young lady. As soon as he was able he was coming in person to apologise. Charmion listened quietly to the repetition of this announcement. When the maid left the room, she turned to me as I lay on the sofa, being very sorry for myself, and lifted inquiring brows. "Well, Evelyn. You know what this means?" I did, or thought I did, but prevaricated, feeling self-conscious. "What?" "You have cut the knot with your heroic rescue! The Squire will call; the General will call; the neighbouring sheep will follow in their train. We shall be graciously `forgiven' and admitted into the fold. Our quiet, sent-to-Coventry existence is at an end." I looked at her anxiously. From voice and manner it was impossible to tell what she was really feeling. Above all things I wanted to please her. But still--