Mrs Waynflete made no reply. She released Jeanie from the duty of accompanying her on her afternoon drive, and before she started, she wrote a note to Guy. She drove into Rilston, gave her directions to the solicitor, and arranged to have the new will made out, and brought for her signature on the next day. Then she went back, and, dismissing her carriage at the bridge, prepared to inspect the needful repairs that were being made in the farm-buildings and stables. Godfrey, hanging listlessly about, saw her tall, upright figure, walking steadily over the bridge, and then, whether she caught her foot in a stone, or lost her balance, suddenly she tripped and fell. With a shout of dismay he rushed towards her. "Auntie! Auntie Waynflete! Are you hurt?" "No, my dear, no; gently, don't be in such a hurry," she said imperatively, having already got up on her hands and knees. Godfrey put his strong young arms round her, and lifted her on to her feet, holding her carefully, and entreating her to tell him if she was hurt; while she told him sharply not to make a fuss about nothing, even though, to her own great vexation, she was so tremulous as to be obliged to lean on his arm, and let him lead her back to the house. "No," she said. "No, I don't want to lie down, and I don't want a glass of brandy and water, and I don't want the doctor. I want to sit down in my chair, and see if my bones are in their right places." Jeanie now appeared, fussing about, and very anxious to do the right thing, but the old lady would not even have her bonnet taken off, and hunted the two young people out of sight, asking them if they thought she had had a stroke, just as they were whispering to each other that, at any rate, it was nothing of that sort. They peeped at her from behind the creepers through the open window, and discussed whether they ought to send for the doctor. But, as Godfrey said, he didn't know if there was a doctor to send for, such a person having rarely been seen within the walls of the Mill House; and, besides, to act for Aunt Waynflete was a new departure which neither dared undertake. In the mean time, old Margaret, to her own great annoyance, found herself shedding tears. She was more shaken than she had guessed. She dried them rapidly, and then walked cautiously round the room, to see whether she was really herself and unhurt. "The Lord be praised, there's no harm done!" she said. "But I've had a warning; and, please God, I'll take it, and prepare for my latter end. I'm an old woman, and should mind my steps, and not be mooning over the future or the past, when I should be picking my way. If my nephew Guy, like others before him, is but poor stuff, Godfrey's a different sort. I'll keep my eyes open." She appeared to be none the worse for her accident in the anxious if inexperienced eyes of Godfrey and Jeanie, who scarcely dared to ask her how she felt.