The Nonesuch

It was when they had covered perhaps half the distance to Knaresborough that Miss Trent, herself uncomfortably hot, noticed that Miss Colebatch, who had started out in tearing spirits, had become unusually silent. Watching her, she saw her sag in the saddle, and then jerk herself upright again; and she edged her horse alongside her, saying quietly: “Are you feeling quite the thing, Miss Colebatch?”

A rather piteous glance was cast at her, but Elizabeth, trying to smile, replied: “Oh yes! That is, I—I have the headache a little, but pray don’t regard it! I shall be better directly, and I would not for the world—It is just the excessive heat!”

Miss Trent now perceived that under the sun’s scorch she was looking very sickly. She said: “No wonder! I find it insufferably hot myself, and shall be thankful to call a halt to this expedition.”

“Oh, no, no!” gasped Elizabeth imploringly. “Don’t say anything—pray!”Her chest heaved suddenly, and her mouth went awry. “Oh, Miss Trent, I d-do feel so s-sick!” she disclosed, tears starting to her eyes.

Miss Trent leaned forward to catch her slack bridle, bringing both their horses to a halt. She had not come unprepared for such an emergency, and, thrusting a hand into her pocket, produced a bottle of smelling-salts. By this time the rest of the party had seen that something was wrong, and had gathered round them. Miss Trent, dropped her own bridle, supported Elizabeth’s wilting frame with one arm while she held the vinaigrette under her nose with her other hand. She said: “Miss Colebatch is overcome by the heat. Lift her down, Mr Underhill!”

He dismounted quickly, very much concerned, and, with a little assistance from Lindeth, soon had poor Elizabeth out of the saddle. Miss Trent was already on the ground, and after directing them to lay their burden on the turf desired them to retire to a distance.

Elizabeth was not sick, but she retched distressingly for some minutes, and felt so faint and dizzy that she was presently glad to obey Miss Trent’s command to lie still, and to keep her eyes shut. Ancilla remained beside her, shielding her as much as possible from the sun, and fanning her with her own hat. The gentlemen, meanwhile, conferred apart, while Tiffany stood watching her friend, and enquiring from time to time if Ancilla thought she would soon be better.

After a few moments the Nonesuch detached himself from the male group, and came towards Ancilla. He made a sign to her that he wished to speak to her; she nodded, and, leaving Tiffany to take her place, got up, and went to him.

“Just as you foretold, eh?” he said. “How is she?”

“Better, but in no cause to go on, poor girl! I have been racking my brains to think what were best to do, and can hit upon nothing. I think, if she could but get out of the sun she would revive, but there are no trees, and not even a bush to afford her some shade!”

“Do you think, if her horse were led, she could go on for half a mile? Underhill tells us that there’s a village, and an inn: no more than a small alehouse, I collect, but he says the woman who keeps it is respectable, and the immediate need, as you say, is to bring Miss Colebatch out of the sun. What do you think?”

“An excellent suggestion!” she replied decidedly. “We must at all events make the attempt to get her there, for she can’t remain here, on the open moor. I believe that if she could rest in the cool, and we could get some water for her, she will soon recover—but she must not go any farther, Sir Waldo!”

“Oh, no! There can be no question of that,” he agreed. “We’ll take her to the inn, and decide then how best to convey her home.”

She nodded, and went back to the sufferer, who had revived sufficiently to think herself well enough to resume the journey. She was encouraged by Tiffany, who greeted Miss Trent with the news that Lizzie was much better, and needed only a rest to make her perfectly ready to ride on. When she learned that they were to go to Courtenay’s inn she said enthusiastically that it was the very thing. “We may all of us refresh there, and get cool!” she said. “You will like that, won’t you, Lizzie?”

Miss Colebatch agreed to it, saying valiantly that she knew she would soon feel as well as any of them; but when she was helped to her feet her head swam so sickeningly that she reeled, and would have fallen but for the support of Miss Trent’s arm around her. She was lifted on to her saddle, and was told by Courtenay, in a heartening voice, that she had nothing to do but hold on to the pommel, and sniff the vinaigrette if she felt faint. “No, you don’t want the bridle: I’m going to lead White Star,” he said. “And no need to be afraid of falling off, because I shan’t let you!”

“Thank you—so very sorry—so stupid of me!” she managed to say.

“No such thing! Here, Tiffany, you know the way to Moor Cross! Lindeth is going to ride ahead to warn old Mrs Rowsely, so you’d best go with him!”