The man was off in a moment; and there I sat watching my poor child, for
what seemed to be a dreadfully long time before the carriage arrived. She
had come to herself quite, but complained of much pain in her back; and,
to my distress, I found that she could not move herself enough to make the
least change of her position. She evidently tried to keep up as well as she
could; but her face expressed great suffering: it was dreadfully pale, and
looked worn with a month's illness. All my fear was for her spine.

At length I caught sight of the carriage, coming through the wood as
fast as the road would allow, with the woodman on the box, directing the
coachman. It drew up, and my wife got out. She was as pale as Constance,
but quiet and firm, her features composed almost to determination. I had
never seen her look like that before. She asked no questions: there was
time enough for that afterwards. She had brought plenty of cushions and
pillows, and we did all we could to make an easy couch for the poor girl;
but she moaned dreadfully as we lifted her into the carriage. We did our
best to keep her from being shaken; but those few miles were the longest
journey I ever made in my life.

When we reached home at length, we found that Ethel, or, as we commonly
called her, using the other end of her name, Wynnie--for she was named
after her mother--had got a room on the ground-floor, usually given to
visitors, ready for her sister; and we were glad indeed not to have to
carry her up the stairs. Before my wife left, she had sent the groom off to
Addicehead for both physician and surgeon. A young man who had settled at
Marshmallows as general practitioner a year or two before, was waiting for
us when we arrived. He helped us to lay her upon a mattress in the position
in which she felt the least pain. But why should I linger over the
sorrowful detail? All agreed that the poor child's spine was seriously