She was aware, without knowing why, that he was extremely well dressed; she saw that the ungloved hand was long and thin--the hand of a well-bred man--and that everything about him indicated wealth and the gentleman. All these observations required but a second or two--a man would only have got at them after an hour--and, almost before they were made, he opened his eyes with the usual dazed and puzzled expression which an individual wears when he has been knocked out of time and is coming back to consciousness. As his eyes opened, Nell noticed that they were dark--darker than they should have been to match his hair--and that they were anything but commonplace ones. He looked up at her for an instant or two, then muttered something under his breath--Nell was almost certain that he swore--and aloud, in the toneless voice of the newly conscious, said: "I came off, didn't I?" "Yes," said Nell. She neither blushed nor looked shy. Indeed, she was too frightened, too absorbed by her desire for his recovery to remember herself, or the fact that this strange man's head was lying on her knee. "I must have been unconscious," he said, almost to himself. "Yes, I've struck my head." Then he got to his feet and stood looking at her; and his face was, if anything, whiter than it had been. "I'm very sorry. Permit me to apologize, for I must have frightened you awfully. And"--he looked at her dress, upon which was a large wet patch where his head had rested--"and I've spoiled your dress. In short, I've made a miserable nuisance of myself." Nell passed his apology by. "Are you hurt?" she asked anxiously. "No; I think not," he replied. "I can't think how I managed to come off; I don't usually make such an ass of myself." He went for his hat, but as he stooped to pick it up he staggered, and Nell ran to him and caught his arm. "You are hurt!" she said. "I--I was afraid so!" "I'm giddy, that's all, I think," he said; but his lips closed tightly after his speech, and they twitched at the corners. "I expect my horse is more damaged than I am," he added, and he walked, very slowly, to where the animal stood looking from side to side with a startled air. "Yes; knees cut. Poor old chap! It was my fault--my fau----" He stopped, and put his hand to his head as if he were confused. Nell went and stood close by him, with a vague kind of idea that he was going to fall and that she might help him, support him. "You are in pain?" she asked, her brow wrinkled with her anxiety, her eyes darkened with her womanly sympathy and pity. "Yes," he admitted frankly. "I've knocked my head, and"--he touched his arm--"and, yes, I'm afraid I've broken my arm." "Oh!"--cried Nell, startled and aghast--"oh! you must come into the house at once--at once." He glanced at the cottage. "Your house?" "Yes," said Nell. "Oh, come, please. You may faint again----" "Oh, no, I shan't." "But you may--you may! Take my arm; lean on me----"