It was not long before she saw Alick walking along the terrace above

the croquet players, evidently in quest of her. "How is it with you?" he

anxiously asked; "you know you can go home in a moment if you have had

enough of this."

"No, I want nothing, now I have found you. Where is your uncle?"

"Fallen upon one of his oldest friends, who will take care of him, and

well out of the way of the croquet traps. Where's my Lady? I thought you

were with her."

"She disappeared while I was talking to that good Miss Penwell! You must

be pleased now, Alick, you see she is really going to see about going to

Scotland."

"I should be better pleased if she had not left that poor old man alone

till nine o'clock."

"She says that when he has his man Saunders to read to him--"

"Don't tell me what she says; I have enough of that at first hand."

He broke off with a start. The terrace was prolonged into a walk beyond

the screen of evergreens that shut in the main lawn, and, becoming a

shrubbery path, led to a smooth glade, on whose turf preparations had

been made for a second field of croquet, in case there should have been

too many players for the principal arena. This, however, had not been

wanted, and no one was visible except a lady and gentleman on a seat

under a tree about half-way down on the opposite side of the glade.

The lady was in blue and white; the gentleman would hardly have been

recognised by Rachel but for the start and thrill of her husband's arm,

and the flush of colour on his usually pale cheek, but, ere he could

speak or move, the lady sprang up, and came hastening towards them

diagonally across the grass. Rachel saw the danger, and made a warning

outcry, "Bessie, the hoop!" but it was too late, she had tripped over

it, and fell prone, and entirely unable to save herself. She was

much nearer to them than to her late companion, and was struggling to

disengage herself when Alick reached her, lifted her up, and placed her

on her feet, supporting her as she clung fast to him, while he asked if

she were hurt.

"No, no," she cried. "Don't let him come; don't let him call any one,

don't," she reiterated, as Mr. Carleton hovered near, evidently much

terrified, but not venturing to approach.

Alick helped her to another garden chair that stood near. She had been

entangled in her dress, which had been much torn by her attempt to rise,

and hung in a festoon, impeding her, and she moved with difficulty,

breathing heavily when she was first seated.




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