138 THE MASTER OF THE HOUNDS. 



u Only a scratch, dear girl. Don't look so frightened — I 

 assure you it is nothing of consequence !" 



" Oh, what can I do for you, dear William 1 " she exclaimed, 

 still in great terror. 



" Nothing, clearest Blanche, but this — if you really love me, 

 may I have one kiss, which will heal all my wounds ? " 



No reply being given, Beauchamp strained her to his heart, 

 whispering, "Oh, how thankful I am for this reward, dear 

 Blanche ! and for having saved you from such a fate." 



"How thankful ought I to feel to you, dear William, for 

 risking your life to protect me from that dreadful man ! " 



They had now reached the Priory, when, at the sound of the 

 wheels, all the servants, with Mrs. Gordon also, rushed to the 

 hall door in a body, having been terrified by Mark's sudden 

 appearance at the back door an hour before, and fearing some 

 dreadful work was going on, from the distant report of fire-arms 

 which had been heard even at the Priory. 



When the steps were let down, Beauchamp handed Blanche 

 from the carriage, who, throwing herself into her aunt's arms, 

 burst into tears, sobbing convulsively on her bosom. 



" My dear, dear child," Qxclaimed Mrs. Gordon, trembling 

 with apprehension, " what frightful thing has happened ? Your 

 dress is covered with blood ! Where are you injured, my dearest 

 love 1 " • 



" Oh, nowhere, dearest aunt ! I am not injured — but poor 

 William" — bursting again into tears — "is, I fear, badly 

 wounded. It is the blood from his side. Pray attend to him, and 

 do not regard me." 



" Bun then to the dining-room, dear Blanche, with Alice, 

 and get some wine directly, while I bring him there. Now, 

 William," said Mrs. Gordon, taking him by the arm, " what can 

 have happened ? And where are you hurt> my dear boy ? You 

 look faint and exhausted." 



"Only a crack on the ribs, dear aunt," replied Beauchamp, 

 smiling, " from that scoundrel Yancourt, who tried to carry off 

 Blanche — nothing more ; and a little bleeding will do me good 

 after this hot, exciting work." 



" Don't be foolish, William. A glass of wine will do you 

 most good at present. So come with me, and then I must 

 examine your wound, whilst you tell me more of this horrid 

 outrage." 



Saying which, she led him into the dining-room, and made 

 him lie down on the sofa, where Blanche brought him a glass of 



