Gathering himself up, Coventry slowly obeyed, but involuntarily
quickened his pace as he heard Miss Muir say, "Don't call him; _he_ can
do nothing"; for the emphasis on the word "he" was very significant.

"What is it, Bella?" he asked, looking rather wider awake than usual.

"You startled Miss Muir and made her turn her ankle. Now help her to the
house, for she is in great pain; and don't lie there anymore to frighten
people like a snake in the grass," said his sister petulantly.

"I beg your pardon. Will you allow me?" And Coventry offered his arm.

Miss Muir looked up with the expression which annoyed him and answered
coldly, "Thank you, Miss Bella will do as well."

"Permit me to doubt that." And with a gesture too decided to be
resisted, Coventry drew her arm through his and led her into the house.
She submitted quietly, said the pain would soon be over, and when
settled on the couch in Bella's room dismissed him with the briefest
thanks. Considering the unwonted exertion he had made, he thought she
might have been a little more grateful, and went away to Lucia, who
always brightened when he came.

No more was seen of Miss Muir till teatime; for now, while the family
were in retirement, they dined early and saw no company. The governess
had excused herself at dinner, but came down in the evening a little
paler than usual and with a slight limp in her gait. Sir John was there,
talking with his nephew, and they merely acknowledged her presence by
the sort of bow which gentlemen bestow on governesses. As she slowly
made her way to her place behind the urn, Coventry said to his brother,