"I am not much hurt, Ellinor," she said, faintly smiling, to encourage her sister, who supported her in speechless alarm: "but what is to be done? I cannot use this foot; how shall we get home?"
"Thank God, if you are not much hurt!" said poor Ellinor, almost crying, "lean on me—heavier—pray. Only try and reach the house, and we can then stay there till Mr. Aram sends home for the carriage."
"But what will he think? how strange it will seem!" said Madeline, the colour once more visiting her cheek, which a moment since had been blanched as pale as death.
"Is this a time for scruples and ceremony?" said Ellinor. "Come! I entreat you, come; if you linger thus, the man may take courage and attack us yet. There! that's right! Is the pain very great?"
"I do not mind the pain," murmured Madeline; "but if he should think we intrude? His habits are so reserved—so secluded; indeed I fear—"
"Intrude!" interrupted Ellinor. "Do you think so ill of him?—Do you suppose that, hermit
