Gerald looked up at him, smiled faintly, and said, with no sign of
reproach or anger, "Never mind, Ned. Forgive and forget. Lend me a hand
to the house, and don't disturb anyone. It's not much, I dare say." But
his lips whitened as he spoke, and his strength failed him. Edward
sprang to support him, and Miss Muir, forgetting her terrors, proved
herself a girl of uncommon skill and courage.
"Quick! Lay him down. Give me your handkerchief, and bring some water,"
she said, in a tone of quiet command. Poor Ned obeyed and watched her
with breathless suspense while she tied the handkerchief tightly around
the arm, thrust the handle of his riding whip underneath, and pressed it
firmly above the severed artery to stop the dangerous flow of blood.
"Dr. Scott is with your mother, I think. Go and bring him here" was
the next order; and Edward darted away, thankful to do anything to
ease the terror which possessed him. He was gone some minutes, and
while they waited Coventry watched the girl as she knelt beside him,
bathing his face with one hand while with the other she held the
bandage firmly in its place. She was pale, but quite steady and
self-possessed, and her eyes shone with a strange brilliancy as she
looked down at him. Once, meeting his look of grateful wonder, she
smiled a reassuring smile that made her lovely, and said, in a soft,
sweet tone never used to him before, "Be quiet. There is no danger. I
will stay by you till help comes."
Help did come speedily, and the doctor's first words were "Who
improvised that tourniquet?"
"She did," murmured Coventry.
"Then you may thank her for saving your life. By Jove! It was capitally
done"; and the old doctor looked at the girl with as much admiration as
curiosity in his face.
"Never mind that. See to the wound, please, while I ran for bandages,
and salts, and wine."
Miss Muir was gone as she spoke, so fleetly that it was in vain to call
her back or catch her. During her brief absence, the story was told by
repentant Ned and the wound examined.
"Fortunately I have my case of instruments with me," said the doctor,
spreading on the bench a long array of tiny, glittering implements of
torture. "Now, Mr. Ned, come here, and hold the arm in that way, while I
tie the artery. Hey! That will never do. Don't tremble so, man, look
away and hold it steadily."
"I can't!" And poor Ned turned faint and white, not at the sight but
with the bitter thought that he had longed to kill his brother.
"I will hold it," and a slender white hand lifted the bare and bloody
arm so firmly, steadily, that Coventry sighed a sigh of relief, and Dr.
Scott fell to work with an emphatic nod of approval.