You are to be my
guests if you will so honour me. No! No! Really I should prefer to
ride alone!' She said this impulsively, seeing that several of the gentlemen were
running for their horses to accompany her. 'I shall not wait to thank
that valiant young gentleman. I shall see him at Lannoy.' As she was speaking she had taken the bridle of her horse. One of the
young men stooped and held his hand; she bowed, put her foot in it and
sprang to the saddle. In an instant she was flying across country at
full speed, in the dark. A wild mood was on her, reaction from the
prolonged agony of apprehension. There was little which she would not
have done just then. The gale whistled round her and now and again she shouted with pure joy. It seemed as if God Himself had answered her prayer and given her the
returning life! By the time she had reached the Castle the wild ride had done its
soothing work. She was calm again, comparatively; her wits and feelings
were her own. There was plenty to keep her occupied, mind and body. The train of
persons saved from the wreck were arriving in all sorts of vehicles, and
as clothes had to be found for them as well as food and shelter there was
no end to the exertions necessary. She felt as though the world were not
wide enough for the welcome she wished to extend. Its exercise was a
sort of reward of her exertions; a thank-offering for the response to her
prayer. She moved amongst her guests, forgetful of herself; of her
strange attire; of the state of dishevelment and grime in which she was,
the result of the storm, her long ride over rough ground with its share
of marshes and pools, and the smoke from the bonfire and the blazing
house. The strangers wondered at first, till they came to understand
that she was the Lady Bountiful who had stretched her helpful hands to
them. Those who could, made themselves useful with the new batches of
arrivals. The whole Castle was lit from cellar to tower. The kitchens
were making lordly provision, the servants were carrying piles of clothes
of all sorts, and helping to fit those who came still wet from their
passage through or over the heavy sea. In the general disposition of chambers Stephen ordered to be set apart
for the rescued swimmer the Royal Chamber where Queen Elizabeth had lain;
and for Mr. Hepburn that which had been occupied by the Second George. She had a sort of idea that the stranger was God's guest who was coming
to her house; and that nothing could be too good for him. As she waited
for his coming, even though she swept to and fro in her ministrations to
others, she felt as though she trod on air. Some great weight seemed to
have been removed from her. Her soul was free again! At last the rocket-cart arrived, and with it many horsemen and such men
and women as could run across country with equal speed to the horses
labouring by the longer road. The rescued man was still senseless, but that alone did not seem to cause
anxiety to the Doctor, who hurried him at once into the prepared room. When, assisted by some of the other men, he had undressed him, rubbed him
down and put him to bed, and had seen some of the others who had been
rescued from the wreck, he sought out Lady de Lannoy. He told her that
his anxiety was for the man's sight; an announcement which blanched his
hearer's cheeks. She had so made up her mind as to his perfect safety
that the knowledge of any kind of ill came like a cruel shock. She
questioned Mr. Hilton closely; so closely that he thought it well to tell
her at once all that he surmised and feared:

'That fine young fellow who swam out with his horse to him, tells me that
when he neared him he cried out that he was blind. I have made some
inquiries from those on the ship, and they tell me that he was a
passenger, named Robinson. Not only was he not blind then, but he was
the strongest and most alert man on the ship. If it be blindness it must
have come on during that long swim. It may be that before leaving the
ship he received some special injury--indeed he has several cuts and
burns and bruises--and that the irritation of the sea-water increased it. I can do nothing till he wakes. At present he is in such a state that
nothing can be done for him. Later I shall if necessary give him a
hypodermic to ensure sleep. In the morning when I come again I shall
examine him fully.' 'But you are not going away to-night!' said Stephen in dismay. 'Can't
you manage to stay here? Indeed you must! Look at all these people,
some of whom may need special attention or perhaps treatment. We do not
know yet if any may be injured.' He answered at once:

'Of course I shall stay if you wish it. But there are two other doctors
here already. I must go over to my own place to get some necessary
instruments for the examination of this special patient. But that I can
do in the early morning.' 'Can I not send for what you want; the whole household are at your
service. All that can be done for that gallant man must be done. You
can send to London for special help if you wish. If that man is blind,
or in danger of blindness, we must have the best oculist in the world for
him.' 'All shall be done that is possible,' said he earnestly. 'But till I
examine him in the morning we can do nothing. I am myself an oculist;
that is my department in St. Stephen's Hospital. I have an idea of what
is wrong, but I cannot diagnose exactly until I can use the
ophthalmoscope.' His words gave Stephen confidence. Laying her hand on
his arm unconsciously in the extremity of pity she said earnestly:

'Oh, do what you can for him. He must be a noble creature; and all that
is possible must be done. I shall never rest happily if through any
failing on my part he suffers as you fear.' 'I shall do all I can,' he said with equal earnestness, touched with her
eager pity. 'And I shall not trust myself alone, if any other can be of
service. Depend upon it, Lady de Lannoy, all shall be as you wish.' There was little sleep in the Castle that night till late. Mr. Hilton
slept on a sofa in the Queen's Room after he had administered a narcotic
to his patient. As soon as the eastern sky began to quicken, he rode, as he had arranged
during the evening, to Dr. Winter's house at Lannoch Port where he was
staying. After selecting such instruments and drugs as he required, he
came back in the dogcart. It was still early morning when he regained the Castle. He found Lady de
Lannoy up and looking anxiously for him. Her concern was somewhat abated
when he was able to tell her that his patient still slept. It was a painful scene for Mr. Hilton when his patient woke. Fortunately
some of the after-effects of the narcotic remained, for his despair at
realising that he was blind was terrible. It was not that he was
violent; to be so under his present circumstances would have been foreign
to Harold's nature. But there was a despair which was infinitely more
sad to witness than passion. He simply moaned to himself:

'Blind! Blind!'