The Elect Lady | Page 4

bring him to consciousness. He was on his
back, pale as death, with no motion and scare a sign of life.
Alexa tried to give him brandy, but she was so exhausted, and her hand
shook so, that she had to yield the bottle to the guard, and, hale and
strong as she was, could but drag herself a little apart before she
fainted.
In the meantime, as the train approached the station, the driver, who
belonged to the neighborhood, saw the doctor, slackened speed, and set
his whistle shrieking wildly. The doctor set spurs to his horse, and
came straight over everything to his side.
"You go on," he said, having heard what had happened; "I shall be
there sooner than you could take me."

He came first upon Andrew trying to make Miss Fordyce swallow a
little of the brandy.
"There's but one gentleman hurt, sir," said the guard. "The other's only
a young lady that's run till she's dropped."
"To bring brandy," supplemented Andrew.
The doctor recognized Alexa, and wondered what reception her lather
would give his patient, for to Potlurg he must go! Suddenly she came to
herself, and sat up, gazing wildly around. "Out of breath, Miss Fordyce;
nothing worse!" said the doctor, and she smiled.
He turned to the young man, and did for him what he could without
splints or bandages; then, with the help of the guard and Andrew,
constructed, from pieces of the broken carriages, a sort of litter on
which to carry him to Potlurg.
"Is he dead?" asked Alexa.
"Not a bit of it. He's had a bad blow on the head, though. We must get
him somewhere as fast as we can!"
"Do you know him?"
"Not I. But we must take him to your house. I don't know what else to
do with him!"
"What else should you want to do with him?"
"I was afraid it might bother the laird."
"You scarcely know my father, Doctor Pratt!"
"It would bother most people to have a wounded man quartered on
them for weeks!" returned the doctor. "Poor fellow! A good-looking
fellow too!"
A countryman who had been in the next carriage, but had escaped

almost unhurt, offering his service, Andrew and he took up the litter
gently, and set out walking with care, the doctor on one side, leading
his horse, and Miss Fordyce on the other.
It was a strange building to which, after no small anxiety, they drew
near; nor did it look the less strange the nearer they came. It was
unsheltered by a single tree; and but for a low wall and iron rail on one
side, inclosing what had been a garden, but was now a grass-plot, it
rose straight out of the heather. From this plot the ground sloped to the
valley, and was under careful cultivation. The entrance to it was closed
with a gate of wrought iron, of good workmanship, but so wasted with
rust that it seemed on the point of vanishing. Here at one time had been
the way into the house; but no door, and scarce a window, was now to
be seen on this side of the building. It was very old, and consisted of
three gables, a great half-round between two of them, and a low tower
with a conical roof.
Crawford had begun to recover consciousness, but when he came to
himself he was received by acute pain. The least attempt to move was
torture, and again he fainted.

CHAPTER IV.
THE LAIRD.
Conducted by the lady, they passed round the house to the court, and
across the court to a door in one of the gables. It was a low, narrow
door, but large enough for the man that stood there--a little man, with
colorless face, and quiet, abstracted look. His eyes were cold and keen,
his features small, delicate, and regular. He had an erect little back, and
was dressed in a long-tailed coat, looking not much of a laird, and less
of a farmer, as he stood framed in the gray stone wall, in which odd
little windows, dotted here and there at all heights and distances,
revealed a wonderful arrangement of floors and rooms inside.
"Good-morning, Mr. Fordyce!" said the doctor. "This is a bad business,

but it might have been worse! Not a soul injured but one!"
"Souls don't commonly get injured by accident!" returned the laird,
with a cold smile that was far from discourteous. "Stick to the body,
doctor! There you know something!"
"It's a truth, laird!" answered the doctor--but added to himself--"Well!
it's awful to hear the truth from some mouths!"
The laird spoke no word of objection or of welcome. They carried the
poor fellow into the house, following its mistress to a room, where,
with