But Malcolm had gone to his own room, and, hearing some one in the
next, half suspected who it was, and went in. Seeing the closet-door
open, he hurried to the stair, and shouted, "My lord! my lord! or
whaever ye are! tak care hoo ye gang or ye'll get a terrible fa'."
Down a single yard the stair was quite dark, and he dared not follow
fast for fear of himself falling and occasioning the accident he
feared. As he descended he kept repeating his warnings, but either his
master did not hear or heeded too little, for presently Malcolm heard
a rush, a dull fall and a groan. Hurrying as fast as he dared with
the risk of falling upon him, he found the marquis lying amongst the
stones in the ground entrance, apparently unable to move, and white
with pain. Presently, however, he got up, swore a good deal and limped
swearing into the house.
The doctor, who was sent for instantly, pronounced the knee-cap
injured, and applied leeches. Inflammation set in, and another doctor
and surgeon were sent for from Aberdeen. They came, applied poultices,
and again leeches, and enjoined the strictest repose. The pain was
severe, but to one of the marquis's temperament the enforced quiet was
worse.
CHAPTER LXVIII.
HANDS OF IRON.
The marquis was loved by his domestics, and his accident, with its
consequences, although none more serious were anticipated, cast a
gloom over Lossie House. Far apart as was his chamber from all the
centres of domestic life, the pulses of his suffering beat as it were
through the house, and the servants moved with hushed voice and gentle
footfall.
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